A Little Extra
by Zandyne
Summary: Collection of drabbles and shortstories based on 100 prompts, as well as some short oneshots. [Organization XIII]
1. First Set

_A collection of drabbles that will be based on a list of 100 themes/prompts. Each chapter will have more than one theme in it (except for this one), and not necessarily in the order that the list is in. The characters mainly used in the themes will be the members of Organization XIII. The time and locations are nothing specific, but will be written as close to the game's timeline as possible. The genre had part humor because when I usually write for this, I intend for it to be lighthearted, but that doesn't mean it will always have humor in it. I warn you now that part of the themes will have pairings (slash and otherwise), I will put a listing of the type of pairing if there is one. Any feedback is welcome. Other than that, enjoy._

**A Little Extra  
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First Theme Set  
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**1. Introduction**

Lost little souls; that would be the most sympathetic thing to call them. Some of them didn't mind being without hearts, those capricious things of indecision were chains that held them all down. No one could argue that. Hate, envy and lust among many other manners unpleasant. They all spawned from the heart, or was that the soul? It didn't really matter.

Xemnas, known as the Superior by the lesser Nobodies. He began to call himself that after spending so many days locked up in his study. Information was power and power always corrupted. He hides the most out of all of the Organization. Xemnas stands behind the curtains and pulls so many strings, or so he thinks. In reality his desire is what drags him along as he traverses the road with his madness. All he chases is Kingdom Hearts, his mind was left behind long ago.

Xigbar, the Freeshooter. He always wanted to think he was free and without a thing left to lose. When in doubt of his actions he picks apart someone else's flaws. The tactic has never failed him. Try to be carefree he tells himself. Live every day as if it were his last, even if technically his "last" had already been reached, back when home still existed. Xigbar acts responsible and he is; as long as it benefits himself or a friend, he doesn't mind being a tool. Good tools are cherished he tells himself.

Xaldin, the Whirlwind Lancer. Level-headed, usually, strong will and drive. He rarely lets what he hears bother him, sheer irony given that when one hears a storm, they should seek shelter... All he knows is that life is something larger then himself, but he can still strive to be something greater then a pawn. Xaldin keeps his words to himself, he is more of a listener but still prone to act when needed. Actions are more effective then words.

Vexen, the Chilly Academic. The scientist adores data as much as he does his experiments and lab equipment. He keeps to himself and keeps his mind open to only those capable of scientific logic. The rest are ignorant brats who exist sheerly to balance the numbers and statistics of creation. Dark colors cannot exist without light colors, much like genius cannot exist without idiocy. Vexen can no longer mimic happiness; he lost the memory of how to be cheerful when he found out a truth. The truth has a way of making any future seem darker...even with a bright fate to look forward to.

Lexaeus, the Silent Hero. The warrior fits his title very well. Like the earth he draws his affinity from he is patient and enduring. But like the earth he dwells on subjects that make him uneasy. He is concerned for the others and their well-being, despite what they all say, he can tell from their actions that they are all unhappy and desperate. He doesn't even want to think about himself when he comes to such conclusions.

Zexion, the Cloaked Schemer. One of the more emotionally young members and the last of the "original six" that were apprenticed to the king. Zexion tries too hard to draw on the strengths of the older five to think of his own; Xemnas's emotional detachment, Xigbar's nonchalant approach to life, Xaldin's silent ambition, Vexen's intelligence and Lexaeus's patience. Those are only the things he can think off the top of his selective memory. He wants so badly to be like them that he often forgets about himself. Zexion knows he is missing a piece of himself, what he doesn't understand is that it is not only his heart.

Saïx, the Luna Diviner. Why did he even start to idolize the moon? The only other thing he idolizes is Xemnas, their leader. What do the two have in common? Ah yes, now he recalls why he worships the moon and the Superior, the 'moon' is Kingdom Hearts, and the Superior created Kindgom Hearts. It's not the moon or Superior he worships in that sense, it is their power. He has as broken of a mind as Xemnas, it probably seems more so given that he has so much less control over his rogue emotions then the Superior. Calm to crazed, all while looking as serene as peace; he'll still tear them apart like an insane beast.

Axel, the Flurry of Dancing Flames. His element fits him so well. Fire does not control itself if left alone. It goes about dancing through the air and the second it tastes a stray piece it will consume it with tendrils of heat. Sometimes Axel can't control himself, he needs someone else to be there, anyone to keep him in check. It's so easy to lose himself to the beat of flames. Whatever decided someone as impulsive as Axel would do well with something as chaotic as fire was a fool.

Demyx, the Melodious Nocturne. He was never meant to see his dreams come true. Tragic as it sounded, it was a dark thought that would always hang around in the back of his mind. His personality was based around music. He had come to cling to that hobby for lack of anything else. Clung to it for dear life just like he held onto his optimism to make whatever hurt him go away. He sorely wished he could have been ignorant again, then he could be blissful. But then again, that was a dream too.

Luxord, the Gambler of Fate. He buries himself in his games. Everything is a game; words, actions, life itself, all just a chip on the table thrown into the casino known as life. Practically anything can be connected to a game; the world is the dealer and fate is the house. Can't beat fate or the house but you play along anyway. Why anyone does it can be regarded as a compulsion. Luxord keeps playing the game in hopes of reaching the end of it. Jackpot or bankrupt, what would it be?

Marluxia, the Graceful Assassin. He never liked his element, but he could never part with the power that came with it. He was probably the most proud and egotistical out of all of them with the way he regarded himself. Even though he composes himself smugly and calmly, he is frantic and vicious when his pride is threatened. Death is his twisted hobby. In that regard his weapon suits him. But once again, he could never figure out the origin of his element. What did flowers mean?

Larxene, the Savage Nymph. She likes to see them writhe, stab a knife, twist it in further. She doesn't know why she does it, but it reminds her who is in control. There are few people she associates herself with and even fewer she skeptically admits to respect. She was never good at making friends or fitting into that suffocating box of what a "girl should be like".

Roxas, the Key of Destiny. He was pensive at times, but he's still just a kid. Get him to laugh and live a little, he's got such a nice smile. It's such a rare thing. He doesn't believe in many things, but if a higher power exists it's probably laughing at him. For someone who has a title with the word 'destiny' in it, he sure felt lost most of the time.

Naminé, she was one of the stronger shells, but not strong enough to be considered one of the thirteen. "Witch." That is what some of the more cruel ones called her. She didn't have any powers except to change the memories of a single person and all the strings attached to him. It was both so great and so little...it didn't stop Larxene from tearing up her pictures. That was another thing she could do, draw pictures, draw the worlds she wanted to see, draw people she wanted to be with. But pictures were only pictures. They didn't have any power except provide what little comfort of a distraction they could. They called her a witch and they kept her bound like one. The second she was no longer of any use they would light the twigs beneath her feet and she would truly disappear.  
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_Sorry that this one was kind of...not cheerful, the other drabble prompts will be more light-hearted._


	2. Second Set

_**Number of themes used: **(x6). **Members used:** Vexen (x4), Axel (x1), Roxas (x2), Luxord (x1), Larxene (x1), Demyx (x4), Xigbar (x2), _Saïx_(x2), Marluxia (x1), Xaldin (x1), Zexion (x1), Xemnas (x1) **Pairing(s): **(can be seen as slash) Zemyx (x1)_

**A Little Extra  
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Second Theme Set  
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**20. Fortitude**

"This glass-like material is nigh indestructible, my finest container yet." Vexen gave the large glass cylinder behind him a proud rap on its surface with his fingers. He looked back at the group blankly staring at him. He gave a dignified cough and then waved his hands out to his sides.

"Any questions?" He raised a thin eyebrow and scanned over the still dumbfounded group. At no reply he began to frown. Didn't they understand how important it was to be safe while being able to still SEE what you wanted to study? Didn't they know how LONG it took for him to interrogate the craft's Moogles and extract the formula for creating the material? Or even how LONG it took for him to collect the ingredients, perfect creating it, welding it together to an appropriate size and-

Axel's hand rose up cautiously in the air. The redhead seemed to be trying to not look shocked and was failing horribly. "Uh Vexen-?" Vexen rolled his eyes. Neophytes like him _rarely _had any intelligent questions, "Yes Number 8?" The scientist didn't even bother to hide his apparent disdain and sarcasm for the younger member's curiosity. Tact was wasted on him.

"Why is uh..." The usually fire-happy and impulsive member was acting unusually distracted. He scratched his head as if searching for the right words in his puny and spike-covered mind. "SPIT IT OUT BOY I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY." Vexen had grown impatient with him and wanted whatever juvenile humor that he was usually trying to get at, to be over with. Vexen's Darkness Infusion project wasn't going to EXPERIMENT ON ITSELF...even though it hypothetically_could _if he let it fester for about a decade or so-

"Why is Demyx inside your indestructible glass...thing?" Axel gave Vexen a bewildered look and motioned to the container, still confused as ever about what he was seeing. Vexen looked at the container. The Melodious Nocturne was indeed inside of it and clawing soundlessly at the glass. The scientist turned ever so casually back, "If you break something you buy it, he is simply paying that price." He flicked back a loose strand of his blond hair back behind his ear; he was beginning to recall why he felt so bitter and happy at the same time...

"He looks absolutely terrified. Why doesn't he just teleport himself out?" Surprisingly it was Luxord who spoke up from the group. The gambler stroked his chin thoughtfully as he looked smugly at Vexen. The gambler cocked his head to the side and materialized a checkered chip in his hand. "Bet a twenty piece you left something out of the description, Vexen." Luxord gave the coin an affectionate flip and Vexen irritably snatched it out of the air before the younger one could catch it.

The researcher smirked coolly despite his previously sour expression. "Why yes I did." He tapped the glass once more, this time with the black and white chip he confiscated. "This container is like a cage in this aspect, but it is a semi-vacuum of space that does not allow for the formation nor passage of any darkness OR light." Vexen tapped the glass resolutely and smiled crookedly at the group. The gravity of not understanding his explanation was expressed with their dead silence. The taxed scientist scoffed at them, "That means he can't summon up a portal you guileless nitwits." A chorus of sounds of enlightenment filled the room and Vexen wanted badly to _lobotomize _something out of frustration.

"But what did he do that got him there Vexen?" Roxas rarely spoke to Vexen, and Vexen never missed it. Most unfortunately for the older member, the youngest member of their order had a knack for asking the ONE question that positively struck his non-existent nerves the hardest. Vexen's eye gave an involuntary twitch and Roxas stared at him ignorantly. Vexen suddenly sniffed and averted his eyes, "He knows what he did..."

"Oh ho ho, is old man winter _blushing _at something?" Larxene chimed in her typical teasing manner. She placed a finger over her lips and exaggerated a look of innocent surprise. The others snickered behind her as she grinned impishly at the senior member. Vexen faked a cough to the side to hide his already obvious embarrassment.

"Or should I say...at _someone_?" Larxene placed a hand over her mouth and giggled evilly.

An iceberg's worth of protruding icicles and overabundance of hail stones later, the group that Vexen has been forced to lecture was now heaped in an uncomfortable pile outside of his lab. Roxas was the first to untangle himself from the leathery bundle of limbs, "Was it really that bad of a question?"

Larxene was the second to roll out of the heap, cackling maniacally and already formulating new insults to use against the scientist, "BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I KNEW THAT OLD PRUDE WAS MESSED UP!"

Luxord sprung up out of the pile and pulled up the bottommost Axel up onto his feet. The blond brushed himself off then briefly straightened out the dazed and shivering Axel. It was only natural that the fire user never went well with anything _that _frigid. Axel regained his senses and shook his head free of any lingering cold. Seeing that he was well again, the gambler jabbed out an open hand and smiled, "Collecting on that 2,000 piece bet my torched friend."

Axel half-flinched and began to argue, "Hey you said traumatized! Verb, second meaning, to cause a _serious _shock to the mind! He was _disturbed _at best!"

Luxord urged his open hand even closer up to the now backing up Axel, "The bet was a _compromise _of fortitude! A reactive outburst like_that _is a _compromise of said fortitude_!"

The redhead opened his mouth to argue and stopped halfway. He ran a hand along the back of his spiked mane and let out a defeated sigh. Axel reached deeply into his coat pocket and retrieved a fistful of golden orbs. "Fine, you win this round." He dropped them reluctantly into the open hand of Luxord who in turn happily counted the shiny spheres.

The skeletal Axel looked from the money he just lost to Luxord, "Hey...Could I at least know what you made Demyx do?"

Luxord pocketed the winnings and smirked back at Axel, "Let's just say that Vexen does not like being hugged, _especially_ when it's a_ 'hug' _from a hyperactive boy _running _at forty-five miles per hour."  
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**35. Hold My Hand**  
_(slight/implied slash)_

His normally bright blue eyes were filled with fear and soon to be tears of pain. "Do I have to?" Demyx curled into an even tighter ball in the corner of his room. The musician clenched his arms tighter as the small form quietly approached him.

The unconcealed blue eye bemusedly regarded him, "It's a direct order from Xemnas _himself_..." Zexion kneeled down to where Demyx was palely staring at him. The blue haired boy leaned close to the blond, "Demyx, you know what happens if you don't follow orders, just bear it and get it over with." Zexion pulled his face back and calmly stood up from the still sitting Demyx. The water user didn't move from his place.

"Come on," Zexion reluctantly moved his hand to help Demyx up, "I'll see if the Dusks can get something for you from one of the other worlds." Zexion tried to smile, but it felt strained and fake, even though he no longer had _real _emotions. Demyx sniffed and beamed with his more characteristic cheerfulness at the senior member, "Ok."

Zexion nearly flinched at the sudden change in expression, but hid it with a tone of indifference, "Let's go then." Demyx _really_went overboard with the grinning.

The two entered the empty room which, like the rest of the castle, was a sterile and bleak white color of metal. The lab room looked different and emptier when there was no Vexen hunched over a crucible or vials of strange chemicals. Zexion walked over to a clean table top and pat the chair next to it for Demyx to sit in. The sitar player whistled to himself and kicked his feet idly as he sat waiting.

The blue haired boy pulled out some unlabeled boxes from under the counters. He brushed some of his tousled bangs back to their proper places as he shook a small packet. "Demyx I need a bare arm." The other complied and rolled down part of his cloak. Zexion torn open the tiny packet and quickly wiped a small area of the shoulder. Demyx couldn't help wrinkling up his nose, the familiar smell of rubbing alcohol made him nervous.

Zexion turned away from Demyx as he searched the contents of his pocket. "Don't make that face, its not going to kill you." Zexion held up a plastic bag and pulled it open. He reached inside and produced a syringe filled with dark liquid. Demyx froze at the sight of it, his other self must have had a _really _bad time with needles if he was scared this bad.

He tapped the side of the plastic tube for good measure and gave the piston a test push. Satisfied with the rate that the liquid squirted out, Zexion moved the needle to Demyx's arm. "This would be a lot easier if you stopped moving." He placed a hand on Demyx to stop his erratic shaking. His other self must have had an _extremely_bad time with needles. "Sorry."

Demyx sat perfectly still, but the moment the tip touched his shoulder the musician flung himself backwards. The chair he had been sitting on clanked loudly against the floor and the senior member winced at the sound. Zexion let out a sigh and waved the needle in the air. "Stop acting so scared, its just a pin prick and its done." The blond was acting so childish.

He needed a quick way to deal with the problem, what would Lexaeus or Xaldin do? He tried patience, but unlike them he didn't have nearly enough of it. He could try Xigbar's way, which would be to tease and provoke Demyx into getting the job done, but Zexion hadn't quite perfected the balance between being playful and scornful, and given it was Demyx, he would take it too seriously anyway. Vexen would probably have had the job done regardless of the younger member's protests.

The scientist's method was the best looking one, but for some reason Zexion just couldn't bring himself to act like that. So that left the Superior's course of action. He couldn't think of an accurate projection so he settled for something close.

"Tell me Demyx, which is worse, this needle or Xemnas?" The musician didn't respond and stared at the floor. Logic might work on Demyx, a choice between two evils; he was _bound _to choose the lesser.

The blond dragged himself to the smaller member. The corner of Zexion's mouth tilted up slightly. "See, nothing to worry-" Demyx looked up at Zexion with strange determination. The blue-haired boy's breath nearly caught itself in his throat, he looked so un-Demyx-like.

"..._holdmyhand_?"

This time it was Zexion's words that were caught in his throat...

Zexion scooped the scraps of paper from the used band-aid into the palm of his hand. Demyx was happily pulling his cloak back over his arm again, "You're right it really didn't hurt! I didn't feel a thing!" Bright blue eyes watched Zexion as he opened a waste bin and deposited the trash. "You know, you're a lot nicer then the other older ones Zexion."

At no reply, Demyx clicked his tongue curiously. The older member wasn't being very talkative or responsive. Demyx hopped off his seat and stood behind Zexion. Feeling a spur of friendliness, he wrapped two arms around the smaller member and pulled him into a generous hug, "Aw come on, that was a compliment!"

Zexion was slowly brought out of his thoughts, "Don't you have some music to practice?" The musician looked innocently upwards as if searching for the reminder in his head. The blond lowered the other down and eased into a portal.

The schemer was left standing alone in the lab room. He still didn't understand why he was thinking so many irrational thoughts. Was it pity he felt? A bit of morbid guilt? Some sort of clash of loyalty between the optimistic sitar player and the studious researcher? Or was it D, none of the above? Zexion placed a hand into his pocket and felt the syringe that was sitting in it. He didn't have to look at it to see it was still full of the dark liquid. Why did he have a sudden change of thought about it all?

_"Give this to Number Nine." A cool and newly sealed bag was placed into his waiting hand. "What is it?" A set of amused green eyes regarded him expectantly. "Something I've wanted to test out on one of the neophytes." Zexion turned the bag over in his hands as he examined it. "Is it supposed to be this unstable?" Vexen's lips pressed into a thin line and he turned back to his scribbled notes. "He acts emotionally enough to seem like he is the most in touch with his former life. It's only logical that I test this imitation of Kingdom Hearts on him. Maybe he'll get his heart back..."_

Zexion pulled his hood over his head and summoned up a portal to one of the many abysses.

_Demyx gave him a warm smile as he grasped the other's shyly offered hand. "Thanks Zexion."_

Zexion saw what happened to the Dusks that Vexen injected the solution into. Demyx didn't deserve that fate.  
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**48. Childhood**

Xemnas had only looked briefly up from his book, "Hmm, I don't recall playing very much with the other children. Go ask someone else about such a thing." He loosely waved off Roxas as he resumed reading over the text. As Roxas walked away, he could hear Xemnas muttering to himself, "Why does he only ask for a _single _heart? Surely the wizard is more powerful than that. That simpleton..."

Roxas had only taken a few steps out of the library when he bumped into Xigbar. He repeated his question and the gunner laughed heartily. "MAN those were GOOD times! Oh if only you _knew!_" Xigbar wiped an invisible tear from his eye as he reveled in his personal thoughts. Roxas let out a dejected sigh and began thinking of someone more...suitable and specific to possibly answer his question. Conveniently, Vexen passed by.

"Vexen!" Roxas ran up to the older member. The scientist stopped and turned to him. "What is it?" Vexen tucked back his hair out of irritated habit. He had been heading back to the labs; he wanted to make sure he hadn't left the Bunsen burner on at the wrong temperature...

"What was your childhood like?" The keyblade user asked earnestly. A series of emotions ran across the researcher's face. From his typical blank stare to mild surprise then a frown and finally to a distasteful half-smirk. Vexen placed a hand proudly on his chest, "When _I_ was a child-" "-and dinosaurs still walked the planet." Vexen glared darkly at the snickering Xigbar.

"...Very mature _Braig_." Vexen rarely resorted to calling the members by their original names. It was reserved for occasions that needed _special _emphasis.

Xigbar shrugged, his chuckles still lingering, "Just trying to _lighten_things up." The sniper waved his hands pointlessly in the air to better convey the meaning of his statement.

Vexen cleared his throat and opened his mouth to renew the previous conversation. "**_EVEN THE UNLEAVENED!_**" Xigbar bellowed at the top of his lungs before dashing down the halls. Vexen, as well as a thunderous shower of ice and sleet, trailed after the retreating and cackling form of Number Two.

Roxas stared after them and digested the strange event that had taken place before him. The blond sighed to himself and was about to head back to his room when he was stopped by Xemnas, who was now standing in the doorway of the library. The man was holding the book protectively close to himself and he was peering warily down the halls.

"Did the Soufflé Incident happen again?" He mumbled quietly if not with a hint of dread.

Roxas got the feeling that knowing about the past lives of his fellows would not be favorable to his mental welfare.  
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**49. Stripes**

Xigbar scowled at Vexen from across the table. The blond wore a tilted, but nonetheless, large smile on his face. "Having a _good _day Xigbar?" The scientist put particularly sweet emphasis on his words.

He responded with a gritted "**_No._**" The smirk on the researcher's face grew impossibly bigger. The sniper was sorely tempted to summon up his guns and put a good, thousand or so bullets into his colleague's lithe body. Specifically that toxic _smile _of his, it pissed him off that Vexen was _enjoying _how miserable he felt.

Vexen exaggerated concern and clasped his hands together in a melodramatic manner, "Oh _poor _Xiggy!" He laughed and Xigbar glared even harder at him. Much to the gunner's chagrin, he did not possess the ability to explode people's heads if he glared at them long enough.

After Vexen regained his calmer demeanor, he reached over and lovingly pulled on the side of the sniper's face. "I think that shoddy-looking dye job rather suits you Xigbar. In a skunk stripe-y sort of way of course."

Xigbar was going to have his revenge by the time the day was out...be it with Vexen's lab or Vexen himself resembling extremely _Swiss_cheese. That'd teach him to bleach his hair when he was sleeping.  
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**50. Breaking the Rules**

Saïx looked over the obnoxiously new and rampant plant growth that had overrun Number Eleven's quarters. Admittedly each member was entitled to decorating their room, but not to _that _obsessive of a degree. The older member could barely keep the snarl out of his words as he called the other member out, "MARLUXIA! GET OUT HERE!"

The brunette member appeared out of a fan of dense and thorny foliage. In his hands he held a ceramic vase with an arrangement of budding flowers. The assassin was completely at ease despite the seething berserker in front of him, "To what do I owe this _wonderful_pleasure Saïx?"

"These," he jabbed a scrutinizing hand at the surrounding vegetation, "repugnant things are as unsightly as they are suffocating! As a higher ranking member, you WILL remove these foul affronts IMMEDIATELY or I WILL DO IT FOR YOU." Saïx summoned up the familiar weight of his weapon and angrily brandished it at a nearby shrub. "So will it be the LATTER or the FORMER Marluxia?"

Marluxia smiled thinly at the blue haired man. "Neither. All bark Saïx, you can't bite as long as you're the Superior's pet." His thin smile curled up and he continued with an air of toxicity, "I keep all of my...plants well within the area of my room. So, y_ou've got nothing_."

The berserker lowered his claymore from the shrub and took a stance of defeat. He looked dazedly at the growing smirk on Marluxia's face. In an instant the white pot Marluxia was holding was now in Saïx's free hand. Marluxia stared at the abruptly stolen vase. Saïx smiled toothily at Marluxia. With an absent minded toss over his shoulder, the vase went up into the air and crashed just outside the domain of Number Eleven's room.

Yellow eyes glinted savagely at blue ones just beginning to cloud with anger. "Why, _Marluxia_, you shouldn't go around breaking the rules like that, your plants in the _hallways_? I'm afraid I have to _punish _you now."

Saïx swung down his weapon and bits of leaves flew through the air as it connected heavily with the floor. Marluxia had narrowly dodged out of the way and materialized his own weapon which was now pointed at the diviner. "Whatever happened to 'no fighting each other'?" Sarcasm as well as bitterness was mixed into Marluxia's words.

The berserker flashed the assassin a calm smile, "The Superior doesn't _need _to know about all of the rules _I_ break!" He struck against the lower ranked member, and he was met with a strong block from the scythe.

"Good! Means he doesn't need to know about how badly I'll break _your_ bones then!"  
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**97. Safety First**

Xaldin was sitting at one of the empty desks in the library, in front of him was a box filled with cards. He was apathetically shuffling through them. Card indexes were annoying to look through, why couldn't the books _he _wanted be easier to find? He could have sent out a Dusk or a Dragoon and found the book faster. However the main flaw in that plan was that Dusks had the unfortunate tendency to _chew_on things. As for the Dragoons, they had a habit of unnecessarily _stabbing _things.

Resigning in defeat, he leaned heavily against the chair he sat in. Curse Dewey Decimal and his pathetic number system.

A polite knock came from the doorframe of the library. Xaldin didn't bother to sit up from his seat, or even turn to face the visitor, but he could tell it was Saïx from the blue blob he could see out of the corner of his eye. "Yes Saïx what is it?"

The sound of footsteps told him the berserker was walking towards the desk. He saw a hand move down and a pair of scissors was deposited onto the table. "I am returning what I borrowed." The lancer looked up to properly reply to the statement of gratitude but froze when he saw the other's face.

Upon Saïx's face were two long, diagonal and bloody bandages. Despite what looked like very fresh and painful slashes, Saïx acted like there was nothing out of the ordinary. Xaldin's jaw would have dropped if he wasn't so careful with his etiquette. "What...happened?"

The berserker's gaze drifted off to the side of the room. "Running with scissors was an error on my part..." The way the blue haired man said it was as if it nothing more than a daydream, not some misshapen event of injury. Without another word, Saïx left the room in a daze. Xaldin decided to return to the mind-numbing task of card indexing.

At the next meeting, Xaldin took note of how much _shorter _Number Nine's bizarre hair seemed to look.  
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_Hm, mostly light-hearted, some funny and one badly written slash-fluff. I made Vexen so easy to anger (among other characterizations), damn. Revel in the awkward wording._


	3. Third Set

_I seem to indulge in certain (crack) pairings even if I don't particularly understand them. I'd like to avoid the pairings, but they tend to appear anyway. (Whenever I write 'romance', they turn out sounding rather weak and forced anyway.) Also, if you read any other fics by me, specifically TTR, you might notice some 'similarities' between the two. Please keep in mind that what you read in ALE does not necessarily happen in TTR, sadly it is just the way I "characterize" them (I use that word loosely). ALE can be considered an unofficial extension of sorts to TTR. -Enjoy._

_**Number of themes used: **(x6). **Members used:** Vexen (x2), Axel (x2), Roxas (x1), Luxord (x1), Larxene (x1), Demyx (x2), Xigbar (x1), Saïx (x1), Marluxia (x2), Xaldin (x1), Zexion (x2), Xemnas (x1), Lexaeus (x3), Naminé (x1) **Pairing(s): **(can be seen as slash) Zemyx (x1) (one-sided slash) _Saïx_Xemnas (x1)_

**A Little Extra  
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Third Theme Set  
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**22. Mother Nature**

The shovel came to rest and Lexaeus wiped the sweat off of his brow. He'd been digging through the scarce, but tough soil for the past days. The warrior had been doing the task as a way of becoming better acquainted with his element -even if he had to participate in such labor to find it.

That drawback aside, he didn't mind the fact that his element was earth. In fact, when he had heard the news, he was _overjoyed;_ even if he didn't openly express it. Earth was respectable as well as practical and he was glad it was something as solid as that element. It meant the warrior didn't have to deal with the hazards with the unpredictability of fire or water like Axel and Demyx did. Or the physical risks of practice with gravity and other aspects of space like Xigbar had to.

He didn't even want to think about the dangers of trying to practice with _six _lances like Xaldin had to, and with the element of _wind _of all things. Luxord may have used cards as weapons, but they were tied to tampering with the fabric of _time_. And so went on the list. Yes, Lexaeus was perfectly content with his simple, but impressive tomahawk and earth control. What _was _bothering him was how strangely Marluxia had been hovering around where he had been working since the 'morning' at the outskirts surrounding the Castle That Never Was. The orange haired man _knew _that the brunette would not voluntarily be around him unless he profited from it in _some _way.

Despite that opinion, Lexaeus thought it was better to remain tactful and give the other the 'benefit of the doubt' as he addressed him. "So Marluxia, what brings you out here?" The brunette did not respond, instead he continued to survey the progression of Lexaeus's work. The earth user shrugged and dug the spade back into the speckled soil. Maybe Marluxia was feeling reflective for once.

"This might seem out of character, but you're doing...a decent job." Lexaeus paused and looked back to Marluxia, whose face was set with the constant smirk it was usually in.

The statement was odd given the person, but Lexaeus wasn't one to let praise slip him by without a proper response. He dug the metal in and plowed out a massive chuck before replying. "I'm flattered."

Marluxia absently flicked back part of his hair. "Well if you weren't, I'd be _fixing _it myself. Unfortunately for me, mother nature doesn't allow for plants to grow in _anything _less than properly tilled soil."

It appeared that some members still needed to rely on others to master their own elements, and the proud assassin was no exception.  
**---------------------------------------**

**23. Cat**  
_(slight/implied slash)_

"You know, you really are like a cat."

A muffled and slightly irritated 'what?' came from under the powder blue towel. Demyx peered under the towel he was using to dry off the smaller member, "You're catlike Zexion." The schemer mentally rolled his eyes; outlandish statements were to be expected of the blond, but that did not make them any less unnecessary. Demyx laughed at the scoff Zexion had let slip out of his throat. The boy in turn snatched up the towel and continued to scrub the water out of his blue hair.

He could have avoided it all if only Demyx wasn't so _Demyx_. Zexion had been walking through the hallways as usual and the musician had been practicing his sitar as usual. What was _un_usual was how his water clones were practicing _their_ music as well. An unfortunate set of events that strung up with the uncommon set-up was a mocking Axel running from an infuriated, as well as partially singed, Larxene.

Knives were thrown, screams rang through the halls and water clones were stampeding as fast as fearful water clones could stampede. Unfortunately for Zexion, he was in the line of said stampeding. The results were a sated Savage Nymph, a nearly incapacitated Flurry of Dancing Flames and a fully soaked Cloaked Schemer. Demyx being Demyx, came out of hiding only after Larxene had left and he apologized profusely to the senior member. Zexion unlike Zexion, had taken up the Melodious Nocturne's offer on towels.

Hindsight was of course making him regret the choice. Zexion turned his attention back to the present, he would focus on drying himself off so he could fully brood later and in privacy. "How so Demyx?" He wasn't sure why the words came out, but they did and he cringed at his own foolishness.

Demyx visibly brightened up and began to babble, "Well you like to lazy about and stuff. You get irritated pretty easily by loud things. Oh and you really hate water by the way you're looking at me like that." Zexion was indeed grimacing at the bubbly member, but it wasn't _only _from the water. "Tch, should I start hissing and scratching your eyes out as well Number Nine?" The blue haired boy spoke with more malice then he wanted to, it was supposed to have been sarcasm. His 'emotions' had been more disorderly in terms of control as of late. Maybe the neophytes were starting to 'rub off' onto him.

"Haha Zexion, you're funny. But, I couldn't see you doing something like that...you're too graceful for that, right? Elegant and proud you know? Kinda like you could take all the time in the world cuz you know it's all yours? Does that make sense?" Demyx scratched the back of his head uneasily and turned his face sheepishly to the side. Zexion's eye widened in surprise, mentally he was gawking.

In Demyx's own little way, it sounded like he was spilling out his guts to Zexion-

The blond looked up, a new smile on his face that went from ear to ear. He laughed lightly, "Heh heh, Zexymeow!" He affectionately petted the top of Zexion's head. The schemer growled lowly and disappeared in a surge of darkness. Demyx stared forlornly at the spot where the boy had been.

"Ah, kind of hard to pet like a cat too." Demyx sighed and rubbed at the back of his head once more. "Why couldn't I have been more of a dog person?"  
**---------------------------------------**

**61. Fairy Tale**

Marluxia stood haughtily by the side of Naminé's bed. "So what do you want today?" Unfortunately, at least _one _of the members had to entertain the little girl once in a while. Xemnas made sure at least _one _of them did so, if not...unfortunate events were bound to happen. And much to the irritation of Number Eleven, he 'owed' Luxord to take care of the numberless Nobody during such a particular instance. The brunette grumbled to himself about how the gambler should have considered himself _lucky _that they were on friendly terms.

Naminé was normally not so fearful of the members, but Marluxia was one of the few that truly scared her the most. She heard from some of the kinder ones about how impulsively violent he could be at times and how he wasn't called the _Graceful Assassin_ without proper reason. The blonde looked down to the empty notebook pages in her hands. Luxord was supposed to be giving her a story about a party his previous self had been at. She wished she could have been drawing _that _instead.

She felt a familiar gloved hand tilt her face up. Naminé saw the collected mask Marluxia usually wore; the only visible signs of his disdain were in his eyes which were dimming with agitation and the toxic tone he addressed her with. "Well, what will it be, _little Naminé?_" She took a loud gulp as his stare bore into her.

Suddenly, asking for ideas to draw from wasn't so appealing anymore. Naminé averted her gaze quickly to the notebook she was now desperately holding onto. "A...a story...?" It was a shaky request, but she didn't want to find out what happened when she didn't answer. Marluxia didn't even have to agree to it, he could _leave _and she would be thankful for it.

She felt the presence move away from her face. She didn't dare look up; she could still feel waves of anger rolling off of him. Would that be the moment he summoned the scythe and sliced her up? Would he call up a swarm of malevolent thorns that would tear her to pieces? A bouquet of deadly, flesh eating-?

"Hm..a story huh?" Naminé vigorously nodded her head. She felt the foot of the bed dip down with a new weight. The blonde looked up at the sudden absence of anger that was now replaced with a surreal calm. Marluxia was now leaning heavily against the wall next to her bed, in his hand an idle petal.

Naminé watched him press the pink petal between his fingers. He let out a quiet sigh as a smirk grew on his face.

"Shall I tell you about...the Castle of Thorns?" Blue eyes shifted from her hands back to the now grinning man. She shrunk away from him as he turned to face her. "Actually, I'm kind of tired M-Marluxia. But t-thank you."

He flicked his hand and the petal became a fully-bloomed flower. He pressed his lips to the flower and looked directly at Naminé, his blue eyes locking with hers. "How tragic. I thought you would have liked the story." Marluxia got up from the bed as he banished the flower from his hand. "It had a princess and everything in it... Maybe next time then?"

The assassin strode to the door. Just as his hand wrapped around the handle, Naminé had to ask. "A princess? So it's a Fairy Tale?" The kinder members often told her fairy tales, she adored those stories of fantasy and adventure. They were worlds of awe where those pure of heart and those of good intent always prevailed despite the odds... Surely, if even Marluxia had a fairy tale then-

"Fairy Tale?" Marluxia hollowly echoed the question and Naminé froze.

The brunette chuckled coldly as he wretched the door open. "Whoever said it had a happy ending?"  
**---------------------------------------**

**63. Do Not Disturb**

Axel and Roxas were traveling down to where the kitchen was, they both had a strange, coincidental craving for a quick snack. During such a journey they had to pass Vexen's lab. It wasn't his lab per say, but he was constantly in it. Just as the two were passing by the researcher's playground, they heard a shrill shriek followed by a series of very delicate and most likely very expensive sets of equipment breaking.

The fire user, being curious of the cause of commotion, stopped and pressed his ear against the large doors of the room. Axel had not been standing next to the sealed entrance for more than a few moments when, even Roxas who had been standing off to the side, heard the familiar cursing of an enraged Vexen.

**_"GET OUT! OUT! YOU NEOPHYTE MONKEY! CAN'T YOU READ?! EVEN THE DUSKS CAN READ THE STUPID THING! -THEY DON'T EVEN HAVE EYES!"_** Another crash was heard, most likely a large beaker of hydrochloric acid based on the intensity of the sound it made against the wall. The two heard a frightened yelp in response, followed by a loud thump and then a strange silence. Vexen was probably catching his breath from having finally 'punished' his quarry and shattering many tools of research in the process.

Roxas stood silently for a brief time before tugging on Axel's hood to cajole him back to walking to the kitchen with him. It wasn't that the blonde was being clingy; he simply couldn't reach all of the shelves yet...or cook anything very well for that matter. Axel raised a hand and shushed the pestering Roxas. The red-head pressed his ear harder against the wall.

Curiosity having got the better of him, Roxas hesitantly put up an ear to the door and listened as well. They could hear Vexen still rebuking whoever it was in there, but in a much quieter and somewhat kinder manner. "-Don't you ever get tired of me yelling at you? Why can't you just follow _simple _instructions?"

Roxas and Axel's eyes widened. Since when did Vexen ever show mercy? They both heard a well-known tenor that was coated with happiness. "But Vexeeeeen, I wasn't disturbing you! I was keeping you company!"

The two decided to run as soon as they heard an exasperated scream and a painful shattering of ice from within. Demyx had dug his own grave by ignoring Vexen's "Do Not Disturb Sign", and they did not want to be caught in the crossfire.  
**---------------------------------------**

**81. Pen and Paper**  
_(implied/slight slash)_

It had been like any other day in the library. Xemnas was comfortably seated in his usual chair, in his hands the usual book. The content of today's particular book was about a jealous queen who had sent out a hunter to retrieve a 'fairer' maiden's heart. He had sympathized with the 'evil' queen up until he learned that she was going to _consume _the heart.

Having lost interest in the 'evil' but stupid queen, he set aside the book and realized that there was an unusual visitor nearby. Saïx. Although the berserker was quiet, he was not one too fond of books, in fact, he usually avoided the library unless he was looking for an astrology book or needed to make a report.

Xemnas stood up from his cushioned chair and briefly hovered over the blue haired member's shoulder. Saïx seemed far more absorbed in the scrawling of his pen to notice that the Superior was standing behind him.

"What in the Non-Existent world are you writing about Saïx?" Xemnas raised an eyebrow as the berserker slowly crumbled the paper he had been writing on. Saïx looked up dazedly, "A list for things I would take care of once I got my heart back...among other things."

The tanned man blinked in mild surprise. With a half-muttered, "I see..." Xemnas began to wander into the deeper sections of the library. He needed a nice tome to take his mind off of the strange words he just read.

What did his name have to do with that powerful word? Maybe it was just an over-elaborate misunderstanding of the diviner's scribbles of handwriting. Did he even _want _to try to know the truth? He never knew Number Seven even _had _such thoughts about him, and in the _library _of all places.

Xemnas continued his aimless walk to anywhere but the vicinity of Saïx, and into the obscure sections of the library. He thought they weren't supposed to have emotions, so what was it that the diviner was expressing?

With the absence of the other man, Saïx tenderly unfolded the piece of crumpled paper; an action strange for the berserker, but was done with such tenderness nonetheless. He clicked his pen as he resumed writing his list...

_1. Find an observatory with a reputable telescope  
2. Find an isolated residence in a forest filled with a variety of game  
3. Confirm emotions. Possibly confess to Xemnas..._  
**---------------------------------------**

**98. Puzzle**

Xaldin furrowed his brow deeply. He took a deep breath in before trying to move the piece. The block shifted without resistance and he began to move it more earnestly. The piece came to a halting stop near the end and he felt like destroying the miserable contraption.

The lancer glanced over to Xigbar, who seemed to be having a similar problem with his own trinket. Lexaeus appeared to be trying to calmly force his own piece...the same piece he had been trying to calmly force twenty minutes ago. Vexen was no better, his own was roughly halfway completed but he was no longer hiding how much its lack of progress irked him.

The lancer looked up to their leader for possible ideas, but Xemnas was no longer even working on his own. He had forsaken it for the textual allure of a book from the library. Only Zexion was patiently twiddling his thumbs in front of his completed work.

The black haired man let out a sigh as he reclined heavily in his seat, "How did you do it Zexion?" The blue haired boy looked up and breathed in before starting his less than helpful explanation of the logic. The sniper had taken the brief lack of Zexion's watchful gaze to 'Xigbar Solve' each piece into is own separate pile -that being he teleported each piece out of their tangled positions.

Xaldin once again attempted his efforts, but halfway into the schemer's explanation, the lancer lost his patience and interest. Summoning up one of Dragoon Nobodies, he handed the metal toy to it. The Dragoon picked it up out of its' master's hand and turned it over. It gave it an inquisitive sniff and then a gnaw. Dissatisfied with its taste, it dropped to the floor and repeatedly stabbed the collection of pieces with its ornate lance.

Each piece then 'fell out'. Giving a pleased nod, Xaldin sent the Dragoon away. He collected the scraps of metal and dumped them onto the table. Zexion ceased talking and looked pitifully at the abused pile.

"That's not how you solve a puzzle." The lancer gave a nonchalant shrug as he proceeded to take a celebratory nap.

Xigbar laughed and flashed a smirk at the blue haired boy. "Dunno Zexion, looks pretty solved to me."  
**---------------------------------------**

_Well, that was intersting. There appears to be more slash...that's not good. Poor Demyx, I seem to have it out for him, and I didn't use Larxene enough, again...dammit. If anyone can guess where the (cheesy) nickname Zexymeow comes from...wow._


	4. Fourth Set: Aside

_This is a sporadic add-on. It was an 'idea' that popped into my head one day. In my opinion it fits the "drabble" description (but it is not part of the original 100 prompts). I hope it meets your expectations. Enjoy._

**A Little Extra  
---------------------------------------  
Fourth Theme Set (Aside)  
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**"Wishing for the Moon"**

_Like so many once upon a times that have been passed by word of mouth or scrawl of text, this is yet another one of those bedtime stories. In typical fairy tale fashion, there is essentially a protagonist and an antagonist. And even more predictably, the protagonist will find various ways to overcome seemingly impossible odds. Be it with the powers of good or the character's guile and expedient actions. But not all tales require the cliché of hero versus villain. Sometimes there are deeper lessons to be learned beneath a seemingly simple surface._

_Even so, such tales may become twisted in terms of the details of the story. Sometimes the 'good' and 'evil' are embellished. Sometimes chronology is disregarded and torn asunder by forgetful story-tellers. More minor events may even be forgotten, or even stranger, some are added on. Some fairy tales may even become darker than intended, the protagonist becoming nothing more than a tragic hero at the tale's end. However, for some stories, it is sometimes for the better, other times it is for the unforeseen and unintended worse._

_Regardless, the ideals of these stories are what endure the tests of time and the mincing of words as the generations spread out. The spirit of these stories can live on long after one's natural life, just as they have after one's parents and their parents before them. But even if the stories are meticulously chronicled, if there is no one to hear the story, then that is the true and tragic death of it._

_Would you be so kind and listen to this story?_

Once upon a time in a place where technology and greed had not yet corrupted the people, there was a kingdom that was often compared to heaven itself. It was the grandest of all the kingdoms; never had it suffered drought, famine or pestilence. This extravagant paradise of civilization was called Radiant Garden and it was ruled by the sage known as Ansem the Wise.

This sage was known for his benevolence, he loved his people as much as they loved him. He treated them all equally and compassionately. Ansem himself would often call the kingdom's denizens his sons and daughters. It was even said that Ansem's kindness was so great, that even the most ruthless of criminals would be unable to resort to their vulgar ways in his presence. Some would even claim that those same denunciations of society would be compelled to repent for their wrongdoings and continue the rest of their lives as good Samaritans.

Such was the land of Radiant Garden, and so did it stay. Year after year the crops prospered, poverty and suffering was kept locked out of its golden lands. The kingdom continued to thrive under the vigil of their sage.

However, as history has constantly reminded humanity, tranquility does not last forever. Not even their sage's kindness could stop the seeping darkness that crept over the peaceful land. No one is sure when such an invasion took place, but its results were devastating as they were silent. Crops were ravaged beyond recognition by creatures born from a pitch black. Citizens of the outer reaches of the kingdom were devoured by frenzied maws never quenched of bloodlust.

It was not long until the unsettling news reached Ansem's ever listening ears.

Ansem was faced with dread and sorrow as news of rampant death flooded his castle's halls. In his kind heart he held onto fearful doubt that a solution may not be found. Reluctantly, he called on his respected friends, his council, to find a means of remedying the terrible conflict

The sage's council was made up of three respectable individuals. The first and oldest of his companions was a well-versed man who prided himself in his mastery of alchemy and sciences, Vexen. If there was a logical means of effectively removing the threats to the kingdom, he was most likely to have the solution. Ansem eagerly consulted the scientist and agreed to his requests for his experiments.

For months Vexen studied the monsters that were invading the land. Even with the help of his assistant, Zexion, another of Ansem's council, they were unable to find a means to truly rid the kingdom of its blight.

By the time the researchers had exhausted their theories, all but the innermost parts of Radiant Garden had been transformed into barren wastelands of death. The once beautiful pastures were nothing more then miles of lifeless soil. Anything that had once grazed on the vegetation were now rotting carcasses. Not even the scavengers would dare touch the fetid remains.

Eventually the alchemist resigned in bitter defeat and for better hopes. Vexen told Ansem he would seek other means of vanquishing the foul creatures in other kingdoms, as well as implore them for their possible aid. Zexion was left behind to ensure that any sign of weakness in the plague that swept the land would be documented and employed.

Vexen never returned.

The king was at a loss and asked the advice of his third council, a young and pensive man named Xehanort. Upon being asked for possible solutions, the sage was dreadfully told that he had no ideas, except to seek the aid of a mercenary. Even though Ansem was opposed to relying on such crude means, he hesitantly agreed. For if he waited too long there would be no one left to save.

With that mission in mind, Xehanort left the decaying kingdom in search of the champion meant to save what remained of Radiant Garden.

For the next passing days, Ansem neither slept nor ate. Zexion worriedly tried to convince the sage to maintain his hope for the sake of the surviving people. On the third day of Ansem's sleepless anticipation of Xehanort's return, he crashed from his fatigue. But despite how he slept, his mind was troubled by the thoughts of his suffering people.

The king reawakened in a cold sweat having slept an entire day. He looked outside his window and saw that a strangely full moon was out. With a feeling of impending dread hanging in his chest, he looked outside, expecting to see the glowing yellow eyes of the beasts that had ruined his kingdom.

Much to his surprise and disbelieving relief, there were none looking back up at him. Ansem ran down to the doors of his castle and pulled them open quickly. Just as his feet touched the ground outside his castle, he noticed that the once absent melody of crickets had returned to his kingdom.

Xehanort must have succeeded.

His attention was brought back when he heard a series of footsteps approaching him. With renewed joy for his restored kingdom he turned to thank them. Ansem gladly shook the hands of the young stranger that was standing next to his friend.

"Thank you young champion for your efforts! I can only hope that I can possibly repay your charitable deed!"

The young stranger's eyes widened. He kindly pulled his hands out of the grasp of Ansem's.

Xehanort cleared his throat and indicated to another stranger behind him. The man behind him stood in front of Ansem and forcefully shook hands with him. That was when he realized that the older stranger before him had a hulking weapon in his other hand which had dark blood smeared over its edge.

Quick apologies and introductions were made. The younger stranger was a musician and companion to the fighter, his name was Demyx. The older stranger who had actually rid the land of the monsters was named Saïx.

Ansem warmly welcomed them into the castle and a private feast was thrown in honor of Saïx's feat.

Having drank suitable spirits and eaten their fill. Ansem inquired the warrior about what he wanted in return for his services.

Saïx shook his head and politely declined. "What I want is something priceless," he claimed.

Ansem inquired and tried to coax a proper payment out of him, "I assure you dear friend, be it priceless or not, I swear upon my life that I will repay you."

Saïx took a lazy glance over his cup of untouched wine, "If you insist."

The king motioned with his hand for the warrior to continue.

"I require the Moon."

Silence overtook the room.

Saïx flashed a small but toothy grin at the sage, "If you cannot get that I suppose your life will suffice, Ansem the Wise."

Ansem chuckled warmly and Saïx's expression faltered at it.

The king took up his cup again and held it in the air for a toast, "Very well then, I shall get you the Moon."

However, despite Ansem's confidence in his claim, he was filled with regret.

After Saïx and Demyx had both gone to their guest rooms for the night, Ansem sought out Zexion. The young man regarded him casually as he entered the study. Ansem spoke thickly to his friend, "Zexion, you pride yourself with solving puzzles correct?"

Zexion confirmed his friend's abrupt question, "Yes, but there have been a lack of challenges as of late. Have you discovered one that is of suitable difficulty?"

The king braced himself for his own words as he strained them out. "How do you give someone the Moon?"

Zexion scoffed, not knowing the true weight of a seemingly trivial question, "What lunatic would ask something like that? Is seeing it not enough?"

The king did not reply to Zexion's response. That was when Zexion realized the matter was something much more serious. "I'll see what I can do." It was an interesting conundrum. How was one supposed to steal the very Moon out of the sky?

Setting about his task, Zexion began his work on how to 'get' the moon. Several days had passed and he still had no inkling on how to get the desired Moon. If Vexen was there, then he could have possibly figured out an alternative to the seemingly impossible problem.

But such resources were not available, so Zexion resumed his work.

Zexion was in the vast library re-reading Trismegistus's books. Upon finishing the tome once again and with no more information then when he started, he found himself distracted by melancholy guitar notes. Curious of their origin, he found that Demyx was playing an aria common to the kingdom.

Zexion had learned from the murmurs of the castle's servants about what Ansem had promised. He'd heard from the maids that Demyx was Saïx's traveling companion. With any luck, he could get clues from him.

"Demyx, why does Saïx want the Moon?"

The musician shrugged. "I dunno, but it doesn't seem too bad to carry around though. So I'm not gonna complain."

Zexion blinked in confusion at the statement. Demyx continued aloud, unaware of Zexion's astonishment, "I'd think it'd be better if he left the Moon where it was. I think the nights would be pretty dark without it up there."

Having recovered from his shock, Zexion decided to try out a strange idea that popped into his mind. "Carry it? Don't you think it's rather...big?"

This time it was Demyx's turn to be shocked, even so he didn't show it, "I don't think its that big at all, about the size of a coin in my opinion from what I see of it here."

"I see. Thank you for that...revelation Demyx." A somewhat insane plan began to form inside Zexion's mind.

More days had passed and Saïx was beginning to grow restless with the lack of his 'reward'. "Tell me King Ansem, how long do you plan to delay on your promise?"

Having heard of Zexion's scheme the previous night, he smiled broadly back at the impatient fighter. "I'm glad you ask brave champion, Zexion, could you give Saïx his just reward?"

Zexion presented Saïx with a lavish box. Saïx gave it a tap and reached a hand over to open it before stopping himself. "I'll wait until nightfall. I'd like to see the treasure in all its glory." Zexion's hopes fell. Saïx would realize it wasn't the Moon at all and then he could execute Ansem.

For the rest of the day Zexion was dreading the moment it became nighttime.

The sun's light flittered as it neared the distant mountain's horizon. The orange-red of sunset soon left and the sky became a dark blue. Crickets heralding the coming of night only reminded Zexion of how Ansem's death was drawing ever nearer.

Saïx smiled as he opened the box. Inside was a small silver cage that encased a glowing orb of light which seemed to levitate in the center of its container. He marveled at it, amazed as well as pleased about how he finally owned what he considered precious.

Just as he was about to thank Ansem about his payment, the slivered and pale form of the Moon peeked out of the horizon.

Infuriated, he brandished his weapon at Ansem. "Trying to trick me?!" Zexion stepped between the tip of the blade and the king. He stared despairingly at the ground and spoke as evenly as he could.

"I'm the one who got the Moon for you." Saïx scoffed at the ludicrous claim.

Zexion took a sharp breath. "That is the Moon. Please take it and leave." He thought to himself about how badly he wished it was true.

"Deceitful dogs like you are better off dead." Saïx brought his arm back as he readied to strike at Zexion's tense figure. Just as he was about to bring down the weight of it, a voice snapped him out of his action.

"Saïx, it's true! That is the Moon, Zexion wouldn't lie about it." Zexion didn't look up from his stare at the floor. Demyx was defending him?

Saïx roared back at at him, "THEN WHAT IS THAT UP THERE?!"

Demyx scratched his head. "Well, Zexion can't tell me his alchemy secrets but...you know how the Moon is not always a perfect circle right? Well Zexion must've used his alchemy to harvest the Moon for you!"

Saïx lowered his arm. Calm had once again taken hold of him. "I see."

With the previous fear and anxiety now alleviated, Zexion tied up the lie with a sense of finality, "Yes, well, that is why it took so long. The Moon can only regenerate so fast once I cut off a piece. Celestial harvests require much more patience then mere crops." 

Saïx gave a short laugh. "Ah...It makes perfect sense then. How brash of me." He bowed to Ansem and Zexion. "My sincerest apologies, Ansem the truly Wise."

Having collected on the reward, Saïx and Demyx replenished their supplies for their journey elsewhere. Ansem and Zexion both saw the two travelers off.

Despite Ansem's zealous farewells, Zexion's was hesitant.

"Thanks Demyx."

The musician turned briefly and smiled quickly before catching up with the retreating form of Saïx.  
**---------------------------------------**

_Hmm, well that was magical. This 'story' was based on the children's book talking about a princess who wanted the moon for her birthday or something like that. I can't remember the title of it. Anyway, I made some extensions/changes to the story to better suit the 'used' characters (contrary to common belief, Saïx is no simpering princess). I also used Ansem the (questionably) Wise. Vexen and Xehanort conveniently disappeared somewhere around the end, but that's OK. Finally, an entire section where Demyx doesn't get screwed over in some way._


	5. Fifth Set

_**Number of themes used: **(x7). **Members used:** Vexen (x4), Axel (x4), Roxas (x4), Luxord (x3), Larxene (x3), Demyx (x4), Xigbar (x4), Saïx (x4), Marluxia (x4), Xaldin (x4), Zexion (x4), Xemnas (x4), Lexaeus (x4), Naminé (x1) **Pairing(s): **SaïxXemnas (one-sided, light slash)_

**A Little Extra  
---------------------------------------  
Fifth Theme Set  
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**14. Smile**

There are many different types of smiles in the castle of the World That Never Was. The original six of Ansem smile occasionally, the neophytes are more prone to the action, most likely from their age.

Xemnas smiles when the darkest of machinations begin to brew in his mind. The only other time is when he thinks about his precious Kingdom Hearts. He smiles only for himself or for his hearts, nothing else.

Xigbar claims he doesn't smile, but he does, almost as much as the neophytes in fact. He smiles whenever he wins a verbal battle, it is an arrogant expression of victory, but it is still a smile.

Xaldin's smile is the hardest to see, it is a small and nearly invisible upwards twitch of his lips. Even if he doesn't realize it, the simplicity of life amuses him enough to make him temporarily drop his facial guard.

Vexen's smiles creep up on him while he experiments on the unknown. He openly marvels about the problems he discovers the solutions of. Surprisingly he smiles at some of the jokes he hears despite his denial, that smile is where his heart was supposed to be.

Lexaeus has a kind smile, the sort a caretaker would have. His smiles are rare, but not unknown. He only smiles for those he believes need them and will fully understand the sincerity of them. It is another aspect of him that makes him the Organization's Silent Hero.

Zexion can mimic smiles easily. His real smiles are nuances of what should be amusement, but he does his best to hide them. Despite his cynical words, he can be shy when it comes to admitting his own pride. Every once in a while though, a truly bright smile manages to emerge from behind his stoic mask.

Saïx's smile is predatory most of the time. His smiles are twisted and sharp. He grins like the feral wolf that has just found the naive lamb even when no such prey is before him.

Axel limits his smiles to only one person. He smirks for everyone else. Not even he understands why he only offers his smiles to that one person, but it suits him.

Demyx smiles the most. Despite how many times he is so brutally shot down by the others, he continues to smile through it all. Some of the other members have come to believe that his face is stuck in such an expression. Apparently optimism was never considered a possibility for him.

Luxord's smiles are formal and filled with confidence. He claims to be saving his more charming smiles for the fairer sex. For what reason is unknown. But his poker face is always the same titled half-smirk.

Marluxia's smiles are usually grins of malice. He smiles when he knows he has the upper hand or if he is trying to hide his anger. His smirk only grows when he gets his little bird to sing for him. His smiles are a constant reminder to Naminé how possessive he is.

Larxene will wear a smile as the enemy cries for mercy. She'll wear a grin while they bleed helplessly on the floor. She'll smirk when she openly belittles her peers. Only the Dusks ever wonder who Larxene's single warm smile was intended for.

Roxas smiles the least of the neophytes. There are few people who are able to get cheerful smiles out of him. Those few are his sparse friends. Only one person is able to get a full smile from him. But that someone is not Axel.

The Organization has thirteen different smiles, each of them expressed for different reasons. But in the end it doesn't matter.

Real smiles can never come from someone who has no heart.  
**---------------------------------------**

**64. Multitasking**

Xigbar had entered the room with uproarious laughter that ceased the instant a deluge of paper crashed onto him. With more effort then he thought, he dug himself out of the pile, but only up to his waist. Sheets fluttering through the air came to rest at the ripples of documents pooling at his now exposed waist. Irritably he brushed off somehow shredded papers from his jacket; he couldn't wait to hear what the story was _this _time.

Xaldin looked over his shoulder to see Xigbar flustered by the deathtrap of pages that half-buried him. The lancer raised an eyebrow at him from his hunched position next to several nondescript and empty bookshelves. Casually Xaldin turned his attention back to the fallen book on the floor and tenderly picked it up and placed it onto the shelf.

Slowly Xaldin turned back to another fallen book and began to place them back onto their respective shelves.

The sound of shuffling pages and the occasional boot clicks were the only things that broke the silence of the room. Xaldin loyally continued at his task as Xigbar literally and figuratively wallowed in the multitudes of books that weighed down his legs.

The lancer finished one aisle and had begun working on the neighboring row before Xigbar scoffed and rested a chin exasperatingly on his palm. A bitter half-smirk emerged on his scarred face, "Gee Xaldin, ignore me will ya? What kinda friend are you?"

A mahogany book was placed in its rightful home. Xaldin titled his head at the shelf and shrugged his shoulders, "It's near impossible to ignore you. I am simply focusing on a task more important than idly conversing with you at the moment." The lancer turned and for a split second he gave a pointed stare at Xigbar before picking up another book off the floor. The sniper rolled his eye; books were better than talking with him? Since when did text outclass the single most badass sharpshooter in all of Radiant Garden? What did some bastard named Hemmingway have over him?

An arm clad in black reached up to the topmost shelf and a gloved hand lined it up with the end of the bookcase. "Oh and in case your ego is wondering, you can always console yourself with the fact that I don't like talking much."

Xigbar at first nodded in agreement then nearly leapt out of the pile in a flash of indignation. Unfortunately, a quickly forgotten but still existing factor was that his legs were being held fast to the ground by an exorbitant amount of books. As a result he gave his midsection an interesting twist that left him clawing in the direction of Xaldin as he gasped for air.

A few of the dislodged books flopped to the lower sectors of the pile and Xigbar cringed downwards once the pain in the lower sections of his body finally caught up to his brain. Open palms came to rest on the infernal buildup of books. Xigbar's mind ticked with displeasure, if only the books weren't there...

Strange spans of tranquility passed by as Xaldin finished another aisle of books and he worked his way to the third alignment of shelves. He heard the falling of books and assumed the sniper was still trying to extract himself from the pileup. In a way he almost pitied his comrade, but at the same he didn't (and for reasons other than the lack of a certain vital organ).

In the Castle That Never Was, there was an unspoken rule that implied that the books in the library were to be treated with the closest thing to 'love'. There was apparently another unspoken rule amongst the more lax members of the Organization, which was to disregard the previous rule.

Every other resident besides himself, Xemnas, Vexen, Lexaeus and Zexion, had utterly no respect for the proper placement of books. If the neophytes (plus Xigbar), didn't outright destroy the book they borrowed, then it would come back horribly damaged. Even if by some spectacular miracle a book actually made it back to the library, then it would be thrown blindly at a bookshelf it could have possibly originated from.

The books silently endured this long line of abuse, as did the senior members. But on one unchanging morning, the lancer found that "_The Spy Who Came in From the Cold_" had made a new home on the maroon carpet floor.

If could almost be said that Xaldin 'liked' that book. If could almost also be said that Xaldin felt like he was being too tolerant of the impudence of others. Regardless, he snapped.

Violent tempests roared through the rows of books and the books were scattered to the winds, but still within the confines of the library walls. By the time the lancer had thoroughly vented, the floor was completely covered with tousled books. Particularly the door which was now blocked by a towering mound of ripped pages and book covers.

And that was the story of how the pile had ended up on Xigbar's unknowing person.

The previous sounds of books falling had stopped. Xaldin assumed that the other had either finally "portal'd" out, as Xigbar called it, with the pile of books or he had stopped struggling against the coiling papers.

Assumptions were put to rest when a book spine stuck the back of his skull. The lancer motioned to rub the pain out but he stopped his hand partway.

Xigbar was most likely doing it for attention. The sniper had a tendency to act immature at times.

An aloof voice chimed in the air, "Come on, stop acting like an ass and help me outta this stack of stuff. I know you can hear me. Hey! Don't think that's the only book I'll chuck at you." Reassured by Xigbar's empty threat, Xaldin resumed his task.

Moments later he felt a strange movement in the air. Before Xaldin knew it, his favored lances materialized and dutifully minced up the book that had been hurled at him.

A fine confetti of what was once a non-fiction book rained through the air. Annoyed, Xaldin dispelled his lances and turned to where Xigbar was still rooted to the ground.

Xibgar wore a strained smile and he twirled his finger in the air. "If you can do your crazy lance thing, I'm sure you can multitask enough to talk to me."

Xaldin resisted the urge to roll his eyes and returned to his restacking. Carefully he picked up a book, this time from the pile that encased Xigbar. He tried to keep the amusement out of his response, "Alright I'll talk with you, but then I have to move _this _much slower."

The brunette moved sluggishly as he lifted up his foot to take a step forward. As the sloth-laced boot bottom was firmly planted on the ground he agonizingly began to take another slow step.

The lancer heard a peeved groan. "You suck."  
**---------------------------------------**

**70. 67**

Demyx pointed an enlightened finger happily in the air. "I think I figured you out!" The other blond tilted his head questioningly, but said nothing.

The musician quickly uncapped the blue marker sitting next to the board and drew a rough outline of the other blond on it. He carelessly tossed aside the used marker and picked up a red one. With as much dexterity as he could muster, he drew a line a little over the halfway point and abdomen of the sketchy diagram.

The other blond watched the water user color in the area below the line with red crosshatchings. Demyx tucked the uncapped red marker behind his ear after coloring in a satisfactory area.

Unabashedly he pointed to the diagram and then to the other blond. "See, this red stuff represents all the times you're happy." Demyx took up the marker from behind his ear and drew a somewhat unhappy face on the originally faceless person. "But, because its not higher, that's why you look so sad."

The other blond stared dismally at the diagram and then down onto his hands. Demyx's previous smile fell to a more sympathetic expression. "I-I didn't mean it that way! Don't worry about it Roxas!" Demyx waved his hands anxiously in front of the other blond as if to fan the sadness away.

Roxas looked up from his hands to Demyx, his face now blank. "Then what did you mean?"

The musician scratched the back of his head and laughed uneasily, "Uh well, you see...uhmmm..." He looked over his diagram with newfound shame.

Uneasily he wrote down a number to the side. Roxas read it out loud skeptically, "Sixty-seven? What is that, my 'happy level'?"

"Uh, yeah sure! OF COURSE!" Demyx turned back to the board to avoid the cynical glare Roxas was probably giving him. He'd actually meant to compare Roxas's expressions with Zexion's (6) and Saïx's (7), but any loophole for salvation suited him just fine.

With awkward, but renewed confidence, Demyx pointed his marker professionally at the diagram. "You're at 67 in terms of happiness, so keep doing whatever you've been doing since last week! I can see the change from that 64 of a couple days ago!" Demyx nodded his head up and down so frantically his brain seemed to hurt.

Roxas blinked at him, a shy smile creeping onto his face. "I see."  
**---------------------------------------**

**75. Mirror  
**_(slight slash)_

A book dropped loudly to the ground. Out of habit his head turned up quickly, his eyes darting to the source of the noise. Saïx had been lazily reading about various constellations, but now he had something- someone more intriguing to look at.

Not surprisingly Xemnas was in the library as well. The both of them stared at the book, Xemnas more focused on it then Saïx was. It'd been the first time the berserker had ever seen the senior member skulking around for books. Usually the other already had the book in his hand and would be comfortably seated in his favorite chair in the open area.

Saïx looked from the sprawled form of the book back to the seemingly entranced Xemnas. Since when did the Superior drop his books? Was it an error or something else? A dark part purred in Saïx's mind, were there other things the Superior was clumsy at?

Silently, Xemnas bent down to pick up the book and placed it on the shelf that came up to his waist. Saïx merely blinked at the whole scene. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. Some books just had a mind of their own and fell off the shelves occasionally.

Xemnas's hand lingered on the book's spine momentarily before he pulled it away. Saïx wondered what it would be like if the Superior held him with such graceful hands... The berserker shook the ridiculous thought out of his head. Hormonal urges were reserved for the _other _neophytes.

Saïx continued to stare at Xemnas as the other man scanned the shelves. Skeptically and ruefully, Saïx returned to the words of his own book. He needed to clear his mind.

Near silent footsteps brought him out of his reading before he could even begin. Gladly, he turned his attention to Xemnas who was now standing next to him.

"How odd to see you here." Monotone as always, the Superior never did show much emotion.

Saïx clamped his book shut and tucked it quickly under his arm. It was rude to read while talking to someone one respects. "How typical to see you here. Do you need my assistance with something?" The berserker was looking directly at Xemnas, it was nothing out of the ordinary, one does not avert gaze when speaking.

An unusual glint appeared in Xemnas's eyes, and he turned away from Saïx's stare. Xemnas's thumb came to rest on the bottom of his chin as his eyes ran over the various shelves. Saïx tilted his head to the side. Something was...off about the Superior.

Xemnas's voice brought the blue haired man out of his thoughts. "Saïx, you've read many of the astrology books here correct?" The tanned man briefly regarded the other out of the corner of his eye.

Saïx nodded his head. Xemnas's eyes turned back to the shelves, "Which would you say is your favorite? I'm sure it is very interesting..." His gloved index finger tapped the side of his chin as his request trailed off.

The berserker's eyebrows furrowed a fraction. Saïx smiled toothily and he bowed to the other, "Oh, I'll show you where it is."

Xemnas trailed after Saïx as he was led deeper into the labyrinth-like aisles of the library. At the seemingly dimmest and darkest corner of the entire room, Saïx stopped in front of the shelves and reached into the rows of books. He pulled out a pale blue and relatively thin book from the range of azures and passed it to Xemnas.

Xemnas looked over the book in his hands and quietly admired it. Just as he was about to thank the lower ranked member, he felt strange skin against his own.

He didn't move from where he stood as Saïx pressed his pale lips to Xemnas's dark ones. There was nothing in it, no attempt to add any false warmth of endearment, simply an action, a slight pressure, and nothing more. He quietly felt something close to gratitude to the fact he didn't have a heart. Otherwise it would terrify him even more. Since when had Saïx thought or acted like that?

Saïx slowly pulled away, yellow eyes staring into golden orange ones. The blue haired man breathed out sharply, his expression returning to its usual dazed appearance. Xemnas stared slightly wide-eyed at him. The berserker started turning away to walk back, "Enjoy the book...whatever dark mirror you are."

Retreating boots clomped ever quieter away until there was nothing. Xemnas continued to stare at the place where Saïx had been standing. Slowly, threads of ebony began to unwind from his still form. The muscles of the black-clad body melted into a smaller and skinner build. Dark skin dissolved into a paler hue. Grey hair disintegrated into shorter strands that were a tinted blue color. Two orange irises vanished and only one light blue eye came to fill the empty space of one of them. The other eye could not be seen behind the new curtain of cool hair.

Zexion leaned heavily against the bookshelf behind him. His back slid down the frame of the shelves until his knees bent up to his chest and the book he was still clenching onto. Maintaining the disguise had taken its toll on him as did Saïx's bizarre actions.

The schemer took a deep breath before attempting to get back onto his feet. He'd gained new information about the eccentric other he wished he hadn't.

Apparently Saïx _could _be obsessed over something other than the moon.  
**---------------------------------------**

**77. Test**

Green eyes squinted behind protective goggles as they picked out the characteristics in front of them. On the table sat a near perfect orchid that was wallowing contently in a pale ceramic pot of soil. Vexen experimentally prodded one of the orchid's leaves. Nothing happened.

The scientist knew it was no ordinary houseplant; it had been extracted out of _Marluxia's _room after all. _That juvenile prick's element was flowers of all things...whatever decided that deserves the **Nobel Prize**_. Vexen shook away the quiet laughter that was beginning to grow in his throat. He scratched his chin as his free hand found its way to the unnaturally green leaves of the flower. _Still, it's odd that it doesn't have a more responsive defense mechanism..._ Vexen's thoughts trailed off just as his eyes wandered over to some of his more dangerous lab equipment.

Moments later the scientist was carefully turning the tiny nozzle of the Bunsen burner. He carefully held a small blow torch cautiously close to the open flame of it. A sparking sound crinkled in the air and a blue flame danced to life from the mini torch's mouth. The burner was turned off and Vexen proceeded to inch the triangular fire of the torch to the glistening leaves of the flower. The scientist nervously licked his suddenly dry lips.

The fire touched the unmoving leaf of the flower and a silent shriek seemed to elicit from it and throughout the room.

A once meadow green leaf was now just a shriveling and blackened shell of its former glory. With an almost sad sigh, Vexen moved the goggles up from the bridge of his nose. "So it really is a normal plant...How anticlimactic." He proceeded to turn off the torch; enough oxygen had been wasted on that pitiful experiment. Having stowed the instrument away, his hand ghosted over the plant.

For a moment he thought he could hear strange cries still coming from the plant. Casually he shrugged his shoulders and picked up the horribly burnt plant to discard. No sooner had he taken a few steps to the waste bin did he hear strange and violent banging on his door.

Before he knew it, Number Eleven had broken through the unlocked door and Vexen found himself pressed painfully up against one of the walls.

Blazing blue eyes bore into tired and somewhat surprised green ones. "What the hell were you thinking?!" Before the scientist could even open his mouth to respond, he felt his back being slammed forcefully into the cold wall again. The vials in the shelves overhead cried quiet clinks as they shook from the sudden action. Marluxia leaned dangerously forward and hissed at the older man, "If you say it was for some goddamn experiment, I _will _kill you."

Vexen blinked at the other, his voice was devoid of anger, but spoken slowly as if to a child. "It was only a test." How typical for neophytes to act as if they _had _emotions. Yet they don't even have enough sense to show _any _respect, pathetic.

Marluxia said nothing. Surprisingly, Vexen's previously dangling feet were now back on the lab's pristine floor. Ruefully he rubbed out the pain in his shoulders. The other man had turned on his heel and was storming out of the room.

The brunette stopped in front of the door that was still hanging open from being torn open previously. His hand held the knob lightly, but his tone was harsh and threatening, "Enjoy your petty science games while you can old man, it _will _be one of your last."

The door was slammed loudly. The blond shook his head to get the reverberating echoes to cease. _How interesting._

Vexen's hand once again curled over the bottom of his chin, his eyes widening slightly at a newfound revelation. So Marluxia was not as egotistically impervious as he seemed.

A skewed crescent formed over where his gloved fingers were curled, "I simply _must _conduct more tests to confirm this."  
**---------------------------------------**

**85. Spiral**

All members were accounted for and seated in the meeting room. Xemnas was talking at the front of the room as usual; occasionally he would gesture with his hand or momentarily raise his voice. The meetings had become a daily routine given how each passing day seemed to bring about new subjects that had to be announced to the Organization as a whole.

"...and that is why Dusks are not meant to attempt to use plungers within the vicinity of any other member, _especially _me." Xemnas opened his eyes upon finishing his near interminable and lecture like monologue. Not much to his non-existent sense of surprise, the other members looked in every degree bored out of their minds. Internally the Superior rolled his eyes before purposefully coughing into his hand.

The other snapped to their respective attention. Xemnas took a habitual breath before beginning a new topic of interest. Somehow he managed to sound more deadpan than normal, "For practical purposes, Vexen will be conducting a brief psychology test."

A chorus of anguished but hushed moans came from half of the members. Xemnas placed heavy hands on the ivory table and leaned forward to regard his seated peers. His golden eyes traveled to each of the younger members and they immediately ceased their protests, "Pay attention to him like you would to me if not _more _so." Only a nuance of emphasis was placed in the words but the fledgling members visibly stiffened at them.

Satisfied, Xemnas retook his seat as Vexen walked to the front of the table in his place. The scientist placed several unlabeled folders onto the table. The blond briefly brushed back his bangs as he began his explanation. "Yes, well as the Superior has said, this will be a rudimentary test of your thought processes and an assessment of your intellectual potential."

"So what, do we look at random splotches and describe 'em or something?"

Vexen reached out for the topmost folder and began to shuffle through the various sheets in it. "Why yes Axel, but it's actually just a simplified version of the Rorschach inkblot test. Anyway, when I show you the picture, say the first thing that comes to mind. Please speak clearly so I can hear you all."

"Wait, all of us?"

The scientist scoffed loudly and looked at Axel as he would have to a particularly stunted Dusk underling, "Well of course. I don't have the patience to test each of you individually."

The red head stared despite the blunt answer. Vexen paid no more heed to him and pulled out a card he felt was satisfactory. The blond clipped the card to the ever present board that sat at the front of the room next to Xemnas and he pointed dutifully at it.

"Traditional Mosquito repellent?" Axel looked blankly at the blots and scratched the side of his face in confusion. "The burn-y kind?" He added on hopelessly.

Xaldin grunted. "Tornado."

"Ornate sediment layers?" Lexaeus questioned hopefully.

Xigbar barked, "Retarded target?!"

Demyx's answer was oddly quieter than usual, "A seashell?"

Zexion looked from the blots to Vexen, "Hypnotism?"

"Cosmic formation." Saïx didn't look from the blots.

Luxord smiled from his seat. "Roulette."

"Barbed wire." Marluxia commented apathetically.

"Chain and rope." Larxene chuckled to herself and smirked.

"...Dizzy?" Roxas looked wide-eyed at the image. He had no idea what he was _supposed _to say.

Xemnas tapped the table and spared the blots a glace. "Vortex to Nothing," he muttered absently.

Vexen nodded slowly at the results. He folded his arms and began to contemplate possible meanings for their answers once the room became quiet again. Green eyes looked at the blots once more before looking back at the group. The others stared back at him mutely.

"You have such interesting responses...all I see is a spiral."  
**---------------------------------------**

**95. Advertisement**

It was another group meeting. The topic at hand was no stranger to the more common conversations, 'How to get our hearts back.'

Xemnas was motioning to the elaborate and text filled jargon on a large display board before a discrepancy of opinion broke out. Currently the senior members were in a heated and elaborate six-way debate with each other about how they would go about solving the problem of their missing hearts.

The six former apprentices were so wrapped up in their own affairs, that the other seven members were completely ignored since they had less knowledge about the subject matter. Given the new freedom, Axel had predictably scooted his chair over to chat with the ever shy Roxas. Marluxia, Luxord and unexpectedly, Larxene, were chatting amongst themselves about Russian Roulette. These migrations across the room had ultimately left Saïx and Demyx to themselves. Saïx happily zoned out and became lost in his own daydreams. Demyx on the other hand, looked miserably at the older six members.

The musician was actually acquainted with the older members more than the younger ones, specifically Vexen and Zexion. They were actually rather 'good' people once one looked past the cynical comments and condescending euphemisms.

At a loss for other activities to occupy himself, Demyx decided to try and follow the argument that Zexion and Vexen were so readily verbally assaulting the others for. _'Oh and once you wrench the hearts from the darkness you expect them to just MAGICALLY FOLLOW YOU?!'_

Amidst the insults, Demyx came across his own light-hearted idea.

"Maybe we can put out an advertisement for hearts..."

Even though the water user had not spoken very loud, the other twelve had managed to hear it. Twelve pairs of eyes regarded him with shock. A majority of them also held a hint of something that affirmed their beliefs in the questionable intelligence of member Number Nine. Demyx shrunk back in his seat nervously as he braced himself for their rebukes.

Couldn't they take a joke?  
**---------------------------------------**

_That was 'ok', little emo, little funny, little weird, and a little slash. It's like a salad of not-so-eloquent words! I have maintained the Demyx gets 'beaten over the head' tradition! Not many people replied to the other chapter, so I will assume the worst in that readers did not like it. Oh well. This time around, I think I got a bit more 'balance' in the prompts in terms of members. Bah, some members are much easier to write for than others. Feel free to guess some of the references. Also, to anyone trying to email me, I have changed my mail to an MSN one. I apologize._


	6. Sixth Set

_**umber of themes used: **__(x6). __**Members used:**__ Vexen (x1), Axel (x2), Roxas (x1), Luxord (x3), Larxene (x3), Demyx (x1), Xigbar (x3), Saïx (x1), Marluxia (x3), Xaldin (x1), Zexion (x1), Xemnas (x1), Lexaeus (x1) __**Pairing(s):**__ Implied MarluxiaXLarxene and MarluxiaXLarxeneXLuxord (triangle)_

**A Little Extra**

**---------------------------------------  
Sixth Theme Set  
---------------------------------------**

**3. Light**

Gloved fingers idly flipped another page of the book he was holding onto. Zexion was bored out of his mind despite how little of the words he was actually absorbing from the book.

Then again, this was the sixth time he was reading the blasted book. He scrunched his nose up at the number and briefly looked at the tarnished cover. He read the title and disgustingly flipped it back open to the page he wasn't even skimming anymore. _**NINTH **__time._

Zexion threw back the book and leaned heavily into the overstuffed cushion he was seated in. Darkness help him if there was a NEW book he could waste his time with rather than the now seemingly limited collection of the library.

Large library or not, having practically every hour of the day to read quickly depleted any so-called 'gargantuan' library of its textual supplies. Zexion placed a frustrated hand on his head and pressed an angry thumb into the furrow of his brow.

With a sharp stinging sensation now firmly rooted between his eyes, he looked back up at the library's ceiling through watery eyes. _Sweet Darkness, end my boredom, PLEASE. Give me a mission, send the Keyblade Wielder, __**SEND ONE OF THE OBNOXIOUS NEOPHYTES.  
**_  
No senior member or underling Nobody came bearing a request for a mission. No spiky haired, chipper boy brandishing an oversized key came breaking down the doors. No over-sentimental, annoying or destructive Neophyte came busting through the quiet library walls.

Zexion briefly mused to himself in his mild irritation of everything if he could possibly suffocate himself if he pushed himself hard enough into the well-weathered seat. He twitched at how degraded his thoughts had become and contented himself with digging his fingers into his seat, half-hoping something morbidly exciting might spawn from the sadistic action.

Nothing happened.

The schemer ran his hands through his blue hair in an attempt to scratch out the thoughts of boredom that had burrowed themselves deeply into his mind.

He heard a familiar ring of arrogant laughter fill the air.

With practically rabid anticipation, Zexion snapped his hands back into his lap to fake his usual detachment.

Moments later, Xigbar phased into existence. He shook his foot as if it were covered with water after he tugged the last part of himself through the small portal. The sniper doubled over as he continued to cackle, Zexion was still ecstatically glaring at him as he impatiently waited for the other to tell him to do something, insult him, ANYTHING.

Xigbar clutched his stomach as his laughter finally met its downwards slope. "MAN, you wouldn't believe the conversation Xemnas, Xaldin and I had!"

Zexion leapt out of his seat, yelling despite himself, a mad gleam in his visible blue eye, "REALLY WHAT WOULD THAT BE?! TELL ME TELL ME!"

The sniper recoiled from the blue haired boy, a fearful gawk apparent on his face and slack jaw, "Uh...man, Zexion...are ya...ok?"

The schemer gave him a smile that threatened to rip at the very corners of his face. "Of course I am! Why wouldn't I?! I'm not CLOAKED out of my BORE."

Zexion expressed a sort of hyper _squeak-laugh _that would have given even Demyx's optimism a run for its money.

The back of Xigbar's hand connected heavily with Zexion's face and his body collided into the momentously bleak carpet of the library floor.

Zexion blinked at the sight of why the floor had suddenly become a wall, as well as why there was a stinging sensation on the left side of his face.

Xigbar clicked his tongue over the schemer's leveled form, "Damn, way to prove me right that ANYONE can snap like a freaking twig! I wouldn't be surprised if it was from being cooped up in here all day long!" The brunette stroked his chin quizzically, "Hmm, wonder if Luxord has any betting tables set up on **that**?"

The blue haired boy mumbled incoherently from his place on the floor. Xigbar quirked a black eyebrow, "Whaddya mean reading's the only thing you can do?"

A few more mumbles came from the boy on the floor.

The sniper huffed and folded his arms together. He moodily flicked his nose up to the air as if to stave off a foul stench, "_Tch_, you should be worshiping me for the fact you don't have to do any more exploration duty, Heartless extermination and stuff! -My suggestion for a light work load has **NOTHING** to do with you driving yourself insane from lack of other things to do!"

Ineloquent and hypocritical as Xigbar was, he had proven a greater undeniable point.

Zexion gave him an apologetic glance from his shameful position on the ground, "You're right Xigbar, I was acting childish." The scrawny man _pfted _and waved his hand at his friend's verbal amend.

The schemer gave a deep sigh as he plucked himself off of the carpet. The blue haired boy dusted himself off and straightened out his coat mundanely.

Xigbar rolled his head from side to side as he collected his scattered thoughts back up again. Upon cracking his neck enough times, he snapped his fingers in triumph having rediscovered his direction of conversation.

The blue haired boy diverted his attention from the persistent wrinkles in his jacket back to his brusque friend.

The sniper jerked his hand out suddenly and snatched a tiny spring of twirling shadows out of the air. A mass of oily rags formed into existence in his palms. He offered it off-handedly with a small movement to Zexion, "Little something I found on one of my patrols."

Zexion stared at the wrapped bundle with a surprised expression. Xigbar tossed it at him, and he felt metal slosh against him as he caught it.

"Think you can rebuild these relics?"

Zexion unwrapped the cloth and peered at the contents inside. A plethora of components were coupled carelessly together in the makeshift bag. A set of boldly silver plates with the numerals of one through six engraved into them were what drew his attention the most. The schemer smiled meagerly to himself.

_Hmph, looks like Xigbar's typical hint of an apology- those airsoft guns from back when he used to force us to participate in his hellish scrimmages._

Before he knew it, Zexion had spread out all of the different parts and was beginning his methods of trial-and-error to piece them back together. He recalled that Xigbar was still hovering over his shoulder and looked wanly at the other five still incomplete practice firearms. A lazy thought crossed his mind as he reached for a part that resembled the chamber that would snap into the gun's belly, "Was I really acting that...crazy?"

Xigbar scoffed, and held his hand on the trigger of an invisible gun to his own head, "Let's just say if you act like that again, I'll put you out of your misery _myself_."

_CLICK._

The blue haired boy smirked at his handiwork, and handed the finished gun for Xigbar to inspect, "Let me guess, you'd spout out a cheesy 'Lights out' right before you'd mercifully send a bullet through my skull?"

Xigbar flashed a crooked grin as he pulled back the top sleeve to expel nonexistent shells from an empty magazine, "No it'd be more like 'Lights out _**pipsqueak'**_."  
**---------------------------------------**

**7. Heaven**

The three of them were huddled around an open picnic basket that was on top of the thick checkered blanket they had brought along to act as a buffer against the dew-laden grass of the vast fields.

In each of their starkly black gloves hands was a homemade sandwich. Axel helped himself to another just as he had finished loudly chomping down its predecessor.

Roxas squirmed in his seat, his own sandwich relatively untouched, the slices of ham, lettuce, tomato and mayo waited exposed from the first and only bite he had taken. He looked nervously to Demyx who had popped open a can of grape soda and was downing its fizzy contents. The blond took a gulp, "Uh guys, w-where did you say you got all of this stuff?"

Axel wolfed down his sandwich with great relish and smacked each of his fingers for any sandwich crumbs he'd missed while he had been devouring his food. The redhead shrugged guiltlessly, "Ask Demyx. ...Hey Roxas you gonna eat that?" He reached out a hand for the uneaten sandwich and Roxas shied it away from him. The fire user gave him a cross pout then rolled onto his back to stare at the cloudless sky.

Roxas turned his attention to the other blond who was still draining down soda as if he were expecting something enlightening to occur if he could drink everything in the basket in one go. "Demyx, I don't want to sound accusing or anything, but where did you get all of this...stuff?"

The musician paused, another can of fruity soda delayed from being emptied into his mouth. He glanced up to the sky thoughtfully before diverting his eyes back to Roxas to answer, "Vexen gave it to me." He smiled and craned his head back to deplete the soda of its liquid contents.

Halfway through the can, Roxas blurted a disbelieving, "_**Vexen??**_" Demyx pried himself away from the can and politely gave Roxas a scrutinizing look of question, "He's actually pretty nice once you get to know him." He went back to drinking his soda.

Axel leaned over to Roxas, and behind the shield of his hand muttered, "Any bets he's just giving him bribes because he hasn't figured out a way to kill him yet?"

Roxas looked at him open-mouthed, his sandwich nearly slipping out of his loosened grasp. The fire user snickered as he returned back to his sky gazing, "Roxas, its just a joke...anyway, hurry up and finish your food."

The blond gave his sandwich another desperate look as if it held the truth. The same combination of a lettuce, tomato, ham and mayo looked back at him. Sighing, he reluctantly munched away at his lunch.

After finishing his sandwich, he saw that Demyx was still chugging his sodas. How he was still going at the pace he was and still had drinks to go through, he didn't understand or really want to know. He looked to Axel who was still staring up at the perfectly blue sky and he was compelled to do the same.

He didn't know how long he had been staring up at the sky, but Demyx's voice came from the side as if he too were gazing at the sky with them, "Hard to believe, isn't it? That something so normal feels kind of special doesn't it?"

Axel's voice came from the other side of him, "Well yeah, its all work in the Organization, what do you expect? We can't afford to stop and have picnics everyday."

There was silence among them with only the wind whispering amongst the green blades infrequently to break the tranquility.

Roxas found himself thinking thoughts of why anything was the way it was. The existence of the Organization. Gathering hearts night and day. Destroying the things called Heartless at every turn. All for what?

"What is Kingdom Hearts?" He found himself involuntarily asking out loud.

He felt the weight of the ground shift uncomfortably around him. He mentally frowned at himself for asking such a heavy question at a time like that.

He heard Axel take a deep breath of air and reply in the grimly morose tone he rarely used, "I don't know Roxas, but it's something powerful. Something probably a lot bigger then any of us."

"...It's another name for heaven."

Roxas turned his head to see that Demyx had been the one who had said it.

Demyx continued to talk, voice taking the scarce, but truly candid value of earnest hope, "Why else would we, a group full of so many different people, want to get it? It's gotta be heaven. Just think, when we finally get it we can have as many picnics as we want. Every single day of the year."  
**---------------------------------------**

**12. Insanity**

This was the last straw. The last thing that pushed her over the edge to commit bloody murder. The last remark that was going to make her thunder-kunai his sorry ass to hell, Non-Existence and back to hell again.

Larxene glared at the wretched bouquet that sat at the foot of her door. It was the typical bouquet, wrapped in a crisp skin of clear wrapping, with the tasteful arrangement of vibrant colors poking out of the top, cute little green stems peeking out of the bottom. There was even a provocative piece of paper that proclaimed an endearing message in curly blue writing, "To my Sweetest Maiden who stole my adoration faster then the lightning she commands, From your doting Admirer".

The blonde clenched her teeth tighter, the veins under her eyes straining to the achieve her nth degree of displeasure.

She heard a vulgar jeer from Axel who had been passing by, "Heh heh heh! Looks like someone is scoring some TONIIIIIIGHT!" He enthusiastically thrust his skinny hips to the air to articulate his point. She shot him a venomous glare that would have killed a small mother and child.

The blonde yanked her weapons out of the void, "WHAT HE'S** GETTING** IS ME RIPPING HIM A NEW ONE!"

Larxene threw the entire handful of knives at him with the greatest strength she could muster. The offending redhead shrieked a high falsetto and narrowly dodged the actuate embodiments of volt laced pain.

Seeing that he was unharmed, Axel ceased acting fearful enough to flash her an accusing smirk, "Sounds kink-" A thunderbolt roared over him and he quit his euphemistic mockery. He was gone before the energy tore an angry crater into the ground. The grey wisps of his retreating portal weren't even there as the smoke from the blast cleared.

With a loud huff of vexation, Larxene shifted back to the most plightful knot of her baneful situation. The wretched bouquet continued to lie on the floor, silently laughing at her as if it had done nothing wrong.

She snatched up the flowery gift and stomped down the halls. A trail of withering petals from the blooms being viciously strangled followed after her loud boot claps. There was only one person who was egotistical enough to pull a stunt like that on her- and with _**flowers **_no less.

"OPEN UP YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

He yawned stickily at the sound of angry thumps and muffled but still shrill explicatives. He contemplated actually letting the damn thing in just to knock it a good one, but decided it wasn't worth dignifying the offender with decapitation.

He grumbled to himself as he rolled to the other side of his bed to go back to sleep. It'd been a very long and sleepless mission. Whatever dull-witted creature that was knocking at his door had better grow bored with disturbing him if they didn't want a maiming helping of-

His murky blue eyes snapped open as he heard an all too familiar sound of darkness spilling into his room. Throwing off the sheet with great force, he whirled around to get a face full of a royally pissed Larxene and a painful close-up of roses, lilies, irises and other classifications of color blinding blooms.

Marluxia snarled as the bouquet was shoved into his face by a very angry Savage Nymph. He tore off the flowers just in time for Larxene to rush up to him, blonde brows steeply angled and green eyes blazing with absolute loathing and static infused rage. She screeched at him as she stabbed an accusing finger harshly into his chest at each word, "STOP SENDING ME THESE DAMN FLOWERS YOU LONELY, PATHETIC-"

"_**SHUT UP!**_" The next thing she knew, she was being slammed down, her shoulders pinned crushingly to the floor.

Larxene glared back at Marluxia's seethingly murderous sneer. He growled at her, tone curling into deadlier spikes of level hostility, "I did not send you any _**freaking **_flowers you self-absorbed, conceited little-"

"Perhaps I should visit at a less inconvenient hour of the day?"

The assassin and the nymph broke their previously locked glares to see Luxord standing at the door with his ever present aristocratic bluff of a poker-face.

Marluxia peeled his hands from her shoulders and slowly got to his feet. Larxene followed in gaping suit.

The gambler scooted backward to the door, his head bowed to obscure his quiet and practically giddy-sounding chuckles, "My gravest apologies for having interrupted you amorous lovebirds and your...mutually appreciative activities. I always knew you were at each other's throats, but not in that fashion- no, not ever! Ah well, I take my leave then- best of luck to you both!"

Luxord gave a gratified wink and gentlemanly smile to both of them before slamming the door shut.

Marluxia and Larxene stared where the gambler had been and then to each other.

They both made a break for the door and ended up crashing into it. They cursed and battled each other to get out of the suddenly putrid room first.

The door managed to swing open amidst their mortal combat and they both stumbled boisterously out into the hall. The two of them chased after the retreating and chuckling shadow of Luxord, their weapons brandished and respective elements dancing madly around them.

Their yelled death threats trailed down the halls until there was nothing but faint echoes.

A scrawny man and a leanly built subordinate emerged out from the blindside of a faceless gargoyle the color of eggshells.

Yellow eyes flicked skeptically from the widely ajar door to the partly singed petals that were littering the floor, "...Are you certain the Superior authorizes this sort of underhanded method?"

The sniper snickered and clapped Saïx confidently on the shoulder, "Of course he does! We want all the neophytes to be able to frolic together like good little children after all!"

Saïx evaluated the situation introspectively. After drawing many inconclusive conclusions, he regarded the senior member with an inflection of skepticism in his typical deadpan, "But, even if Marluxia and Larxene are not bickering, they are about to cause great damage to Luxord, perhaps even Axel as well."

Xigbar overlooked the other's observations and laughed to himself as he rubbed his hands together anxiously like a madman, "Heheheheh, 50-to-1 that the allegedly sexually ambiguous Marluxia would NEVER get into close contact with man-hater Larxene, man I can almost taste the 100,000 munny now..."

Saïx's mild cautions continued to be greatly ignored as the sniper stalked down the hall, still rubbing his black paws together and muttering about the spoils he was about to collect on.

The obedient berserker was left to himself in the now empty halls. He began to question why he even bothered to listen to the only elder member who was radically unstable mentally.

_Because it's fun._

Saïx wrinkled his brows together at how delightfully his inner thoughts had answered him. He pressed his bare wrist to his forehead and noticed it felt _warmer _then usual.

Feeling a spur of precaution, Saïx began to make his way down to the labs where Vexen resided. "I need to make sure this...insanity is not contagious."  
**---------------------------------------**

**32. Night**

In their reclusive world that had abandoned the sun and moon, there was nothing to truly dictate night or day. In light of this, an instinctive hour system had been implemented based on the members that milled about in the main hall of the castle.

Early morning is when Lexaeus and Xaldin are typically the most notably active. Usually they talk with each other while they minutely spruce up the castle from the previous day's disorder. They are the first ones up because they systematically take turns breaking out the materials necessary for breakfast rather then relying on the Dusks or other Nobody Underlings. They consider a 'human touch' necessary when it comes to activities such as making food. Also because the Nobody Underlings for the most part do not possess opposable thumbs and it would be most unwise if things that lacked proper grip were left with sharp objects and a far from lucid thought process.

The following phase is dubbed the in-between of early and late morning. The next group that emerges from their sleeping lairs are Xigbar, Demyx and Zexion. Xigbar and Demyx converse with each other loudly enough to give a fanatic stadium decent competition. Amidst this, Zexion pretends to devote his attention to nursing a muffin or piece of cold toast for breakfast. Despite his outer facade of indifference, he actually takes a twisted interest in their capricious chatter. No matter how ridiculous he usually tries to pass off their random topics, he finds the two extroverts entertaining.

By late morning, everyone has more or less been woken up. The only difference is where their presences are in the main hall. The late morning group consists predictably of Axel toting along a grumpy and groggy Roxas. They usually settle into playing some sort of trivial game for the majority of the day. Demyx is also present during this, sometimes watching Axel and Roxas bicker over their table games of wars or trying to occupy his compulsively artistic self. Every once in a while, Demyx disappears from the main hall during the late morning, no one typically knows where he goes until some time later- usually with an extremely irate Vexen in tow. However, despite the others' half-baked concern, it's a magic trick of his that they prefer not to know.

Around the vague noontime Xemnas finally finds reasonable excuse to come out of his fortified study. He prowls around the main hall and assigns orders to the other twelve from noon until the afternoon. Zexion can intermittently be found talking with Lexaeus as well as Luxord over statistics and the odd conundrum from the worlds they explore. Once more, Vexen resurfaces from his lab for a mental break and talks with usually Zexion, Lexaeus, Luxord and ruefully, Xemnas himself.

At the afternoon, Axel and Roxas are just about closing their games which inevitably end in an 'ongoing draw' as Axel likes to perpetuate. The entire Organization in fact gathers in the main hall at the practiced prospect of dinner. Usually Demyx or Xigbar do the honors of kindly screaming at the top of their lungs to cajole the group into the main hall as they wait for supper like good little children. On a daily basis two members draw straws for who makes dinner for that particular day. Often times, the three who are in charge of cooking is some combination of Saïx, Vexen and Xaldin- coincidentally the three who have the best cooking skills in terms of dinner cuisine. Not that anyone complains about this unless Vexen is in a particularly a foul mood from Demyx being too blunderingly intrusive in his labs.

After dinner is completely done it is what would most accurately be deemed sunset. The dishes and mundane cleanup is left to the Dusks and the other Nobody Underlings. Saïx drifts off from the dining room to hang around in the previously deserted main hall. He then embarks on his favorite pastime, staring wordlessly out of the window, a reference text in his hand and an expression rivaling a child wondering where St. Nick has gone on Christmas. During this time is when Marluxia for once, stays in the main hall long enough to have a reasonable discussion with Luxord until Larxene decides to ruthlessly chip in her two cents.

The elder members surprisingly are the ones that begin the procession back to their own rooms. Xaldin and Lexaeus are the first and foremost abiders of 'early to bed and early to rise'. Xemnas is also prompt in his departure, but no one knows when or **if **he even sleeps in his study given his rather infamous bouts of wandering through the castle at ungodly hours and moments. Vexen has an erratic sleep schedule but he always scurries back to his room (which is really the lab), roughly half an hour after dinner ends. Zexion hovers around to eavesdrop on the others before yawning loudly and stalking back to his room. Almost uncharacteristically, Xigbar is the one that plays the part of the responsible chaperon and ushers many of the younger members back to their rooms. Specifically Axel, Demyx, Luxord, Marluxia and Roxas, and in a manner that gives new meaning to 'human endangerment'.

He leaves Saïx and Larxene alone because of the pet-like favoritism Xemnas has for the berserker and for the bitter rivalry Xigbar has with the prankster. Larxene merely continues to sit in the main hall, lounging in one of the many couches, a book caressed in her lap. She's engrossed in her book and doesn't offer a word to any of the others regardless of the manner in how they are filtered out one by one.

An hour mirthlessly rolls by and the hall is soaked with the veil of an utterly dead void save for her and Saïx by the window.

She remains frozen like a perfect statue only breaking the illusion when she has to turn a page. Larxene continues to gravely read and plot her slow acts of vengeance like any properly evil young lady up until Saïx pads off to sleep.

A nonexistent bell tolls a resonating twelve times, and true nighttime falls upon their caged off world.

It is during this time when not even the Dusks or Creepers are stirring that she indulges in what she considers her darkest vice.

Today's particular book is actually one that she stole from Zexion's quarters. One that ironically talks about a very proper man who maintains a scandalous double life. His foremost persona plays by starched rules and the other epitomizes contrasting brutality and selfishness. She scoffs at reading the last page of the book and how Dr. Jekyll met his own experimental end. Larxene shuts the book with a cold snap. The idea that the book is somewhat reflective of her own situation mildly irks her, but the self-comforting devil in her reminds her that bookworm Zexion's choices in reading material aren't the best.

She stretches and lets out an unrestrained yawn as best she can in her current position. She has been sitting sideways so that her boot heels hang over the chair's arm. In flexing she sends a series of tired and chilling tingles through her joints and she ends up dropping the book over the edge of the chair. It claps pathetically to the floor, but she doesn't care much for a book that would be better categorized as a paperweight in her opinion.

Larxene eases back into her odd seating on her comfy throne. Blearily she looks back at the eternally boring interior of the main hall that is even more lifeless now that she is all alone and without an obscure distraction.

Reflexively she wants to check her wrist for the time despite how she knows she has no watch. None of them do, not even Luxord who is supposed to be the master of the element. So instead she glares angrily at the black of her glove to pass her idleness.

As if on cue the patter of a set of boots break the crisp silence. She sluggishly gets out of her seat and carefully dusts the wrinkles off her cloak.

As expected, a familiar black-hooded stranger is approaching her with even boot claps. He stops before her and bows lowly. One hand is tucked under where he bends at the waist and the other gloved hand is held open to accept hers.

He never says anything, but she knows what he is asking for. Every time she always takes his hand and they begin their unreal ritual of practiced foot steps to an imaginary but synchronized melody.

They twirl around fluidly through the entire body of the main hall. Boots lightly tap and clack over the sheenless surface of a floor pretending to play the part of a ballroom. His hand holding hers, its mate cupping the perfect small of her leather clad back. While they spin she unbars the locks that hold back her only true smile that had been buried since she'd lost her heart. It is the one true smile of happiness and unadulterated joy whose sanctity she holds on the same level as her pride.

They could almost be called as inviting as angels but they shared nothing in common with the Romantic fairytale of a concept. They continue to bob and weave their dance mimicking ravens and other graces associated with the advocates of gloom.

Upon the last reverberating note of their invisible orchestra, they slow to a stop. The silent music dies off, but they still are within each other's physical duet of an embrace. Larxene already knows the part that always follows after the conclusion of their dance. It's the event that exhilarates her yet she despises and dreads.

The conclusion of their custom ends with what should be a kiss, but rather he flees from her into the caressing chills of darkness. Today she ponders a bitter question that crosses her mind as they stand there in each other's arms silently.

_'Will he run away again?'_

The hiss of leather acts as a preamble for him to retreat. She grasps the sleeve of his jacket with the tightest ferocity. Larxene glowers at him, eyes narrowing into a sharply accusing glare. "_Coward..._" she forces out in an abrupt breath.

The lip of his hood bobs back as if her words had struck him. One of her hands sweeps out from its perch and latches onto the silver drawstrings of his hood. He pulls back but they swiftly reach their limit and he's shoved into an inescapable corner of his own garments. She forcefully drags him down and meets his lips in a desperate gnash of entanglement. She can taste nothing from him, only the sensation of their mouths pressing agonizingly together.

He stops moving as the finality of their broken taboo sinks into his reality. Slowly Larxene draws away from him and half glowers at him with the silent question of _'**N**__**ow **__will you tell me who you are?'_

Much to her memory of frustration, he takes small back steps from her and towards the door. Her brows draw together, an infuriated growl escapes from her throat. He doesn't pick up the pace, but he continues his backwards tread.

A familiar crackle and metal weight forms into her hand. She throws it at him and he narrowly dodges. Her phantom has his hand held open to the side as if to call forth his own weapon to the battle in retaliation. The darkness dances on his hands, but he appears to will it back away. She glares bitterly at him and the slightly disheveled hood that isn't perfecting its job at concealing his identity.

She can see something signature peeking out from under the shadow of his cloth helm.

"Blue eyes eh?" She curses at him from across the stagnant room.

He merely tugs the hood back down and bows apathetically.

"Still won't talk?" Her knives assemble blindingly into her hands and she lunges forward at her accused. Larxene lets out a yell and slashes savagely at him.

Her knives and hands pass through nothing. Oily wisps of ether trail along her arms and a light perfume of unforgiving sin wafts past her. She frowns once more. _**Him.**_

The blonde glares at the floor until it begins to bleed in focus. She stows her weapons back into the void. _'What a waste of time!'_

She doesn't spend away more precious moments in the defiled hall, She travels back to her room, the journey is a blur. She throws herself to the bed and for a while she stares at the luminescent ceiling. Larxene holds up her splayed hand to the opposing nature of the room. _'Why __**him **__of all people?'_

It isn't until the day restarts again that she is back to her unforgiving self.

The course of the hours run through their routine of morning, noon and sunset. She sees her target talking with his usual companions. She slips easily back into the ingrained pattern of the day and walks over to him.

The gambler with superficial airs is deep in his own babbling by the time she reaches him, "-but Marly, you simply must try Bordeaux's Rose Wine! It is the very elixir of the gods-!"

The brunette scoffs in his usually impassive manner, "Is that before or after you waste the entire bottle?" He pauses and stiffens his previously lax posture at noticing her. He grins contemptuously at her presence, "How pleasant of you to join us miss sunshine."

Larxene flashes an arrogant smirk at him and traces suggestive fingertips around the side of his face. His eyes widen and he follows her digits out of the corner of his eyes, but he doesn't react otherwise. Luxord stares in a way that would appear to be gawking on any less of a refined person at seeing the cryptic exchange between the two.

The blonde turns from him in a way only a weightless feather can upon water.

As she walks away, Luxord's inquisitions can already be heard echoing after the event. "What the bloody hell was that all about? Marly are there some cardinal relationships roughing about that I was left unaware of? Marly??"

Unlike the countless days before, Larxene doesn't wait in the hall for night to fall. Instead she obediently returns to her room to sleep.

She smiles conflictingly to herself as her eyes slide shut for her danceless dreams. _'It was worth it, that look on your face...'_  
**---------------------------------------**

**60. Rejection**

Just another day on patrol. Or, as a more cynical observer would point out, it was more like 'slacking off' on patrol in a distant world of grass and needlessly ornate faux botanical gardens. A blonde woman sits coolly at a table made out of white metal fencing that holds a set of exquisite china. The chair she is sitting in looks uncomfortable in its grated design, but regardless of this it doesn't appear to bother her or she masks her discomfort well. Whichever it was doesn't matter as she expresses some form of ill will at the sight of a man with fine platinum blond hair approaching her from one of the mouths of the nearby bush maze.

He sighs blissfully as he closes in on her and her table, "Isn't it such a lovely day? It's as though the heavens parted to act as your red carpet." He takes his seat fluidly next to her and helps himself to the cold tea on the table.

She gives him a pointed glare and flips back her head with a light snicker, "Well I can tell you're a bright one, the sky's blue and there were never clouds here in the first place."

He takes a pink packet of creamer from the dainty white box on the set and shakes it with great fervor, "Ah an error on my part, I was simply distracted by how radiant your presence is."

She swivels in her chair so that her elbows rest on the interlacing metal of the table and that her chin sits on the back of her leather gloves, "Dunno what you're smoking, but I only 'radiate' hatred towards scumbags like you."

He rips open the packet with relish and empties it into the dark brown liquid sitting in the white teacup, "I would gladly play the part of a fatherless son if only it would allow for a single glance from you."

She chuckles darkly at him, "Congratulations, you have my glares of daggers."

For a moment he pauses his activities with the tea and his blue eyes bore into her green ones. He crumples the packet up into a significantly smaller wad and dramatically places a hand over his chest, "Elegant daggers that easily pierce the very fiber of my being!"

She snorts at him and his melodrama. Her hands lower and flatten against the porous surface of the table as if to physically quash his ego as well, "To me it looks more like your IQ is dropping lower then the card count in your deck."

He picks open the sugar container and with the tiny spoon plops in four cubes of sugar, "Perhaps if I could give you as many hearts as there are in my deck, you would understand how I feel?"

She pulls back from him and reclines heavily back into her chair, as if doing so will help keep his cheesy response from infecting her personal space. She replies quickly to him so as not to leave the wrong impression of his words, "Hell no, I would never want to either. And if I was forced to, I would use every damn diamond, club and spade to kick your sorry ass."

He plucks a stirrer from the open cylinder on the table and mixes his concoction of a beverage. He laughs airily at her remarks as the tan spreads to the rest of the previously richer brown, "Oh ho ho, such a sharp-tongued goddess of beauty! You really do epitomize the ideal woman."

Her response is dripping with sardonic deadpan, "I'm flattered. Pity it doesn't really mean that much considering you're the undisputed winner of the Darwin Award."

He stops stirring and plops the stick onto the tea saucer. He brings the teacup up to his lips and sighs dejectedly into it, "...You really do hate me don't you?"

She flashes a sincerely arrogant smirk at him, "Only took you two months to finally get it through your thick skull."

He stops from drinking his tea and lowers it from his face. He gives her a truly befuddled look, "Two months...? Why but I've known you longer than-"

Her smirk contorts into a deep frown. And his eyebrows raise at the realization.

He chuckles to himself, "Oh...I see now. So you're still sore over that incident with Marluxia? You really don't take rejection very well do you Larxene?" He takes a long drag from the over-sweetened and distastefully cold liquid.

Larxene rolls her head on her neck so that each segment cracks with a small release, "Tch, better then you take your own petty losses Luxord."

He places down his now empty teacup, "Touché."  
**---------------------------------------**

**80. Words**

It all started out as just yet another 'once upon a time when rifling through the abyss of books for a library' Xaldin stumbled upon a rather conspicuous looking book.

He squinted at the book as if it were a mirage or trick of the immortal lighting of the Castle's library, but it did not fade nor distort into something more normal after tilting it in various directions. He examined the thin, black-wrapped book with a sense of sadistic curiosity. A thought in the back of his mind recalled this particular book, but not the importance or meaning of it.

Not wanting to be left with grating temptation from his curiosity, the lancer opens the book to examine the contents. His purple eyes light up with surprise and crinkle from quaking chuckles.

A low base of worry comes from behind one of the farther shelves, "Is something wrong Xaldin?" Lexaeus's head pops out from behind the shelf just as he says the name.

Xaldin holds up the black book's contents to Lexaeus. He stares at its innards and his face ends up twisting into a failed attempt at shirking off his sense of humor. The lancer is still beaming at his discovery as he turns the book back to himself.

The orange haired man speaks after Xaldin resumes gloating over the article he has found, "What do you plan to do with it?"

The brunette gives him a toothy grin, and replies matter-of-factly, "Why, spread the _joy_."

Ever since Xemnas had emerged from his study for a brief tour around the majestic castle, he'd noticed a...change of sorts that had swept the domain. Specifically that everyone was apparently _missing_.

There was no one creating a mess in the main hall, there were no violent outbreaks from the quarreling neophytes and none of the researchers were clamoring to give him information. In short it was utterly, completely _serene_. The Superior glanced down the empty halls and marveled at the lack of daily destruction. With a quirked smile he resumed his stroll through the otherworldly home.

Xemnas continued his lonesome tour, taking in the trivial details he never noticed before such as how even more pointlessly ornate designs had developed along the Castle's exposed scaffolds.

It was rather nice whatever this spell of armistice was.

However the sound of rapping boot claps told him that brief respite was now over. With a puff of sorrowful resignation he turned to the source of the noise.

Not much to his surprise it was Vexen.

The scientist didn't even bother to catch his breath, so he wheezed out his alarm to the tanned man, "X-x-enmassss...m-main hall...X-x-igbarrrr is tryyying to kill Xaldiiiiiin..." At the end of this message, the blond collapsed into a panting pile on the floor.

Xemnas juts out his jaw in childish annoyance. _'Damn Xigbar and his residual temper.'_

After back-tracking all the way to the previously harmonious main hall, he sees that Xigbar is indeed doing his best to decimate Xaldin with his gun arrows. Oddly Xigbar is the one roaring every curse under the heavens at Xaldin while the lancer mocks him. Just as Xigbar seems to reach a boiling point in his anger, he throws out his hands in a gesture that acts as the precursor to what he nicknamed 'the explody bazooka'.

Forming the gigantic beam causes the air to rivet painfully. As the atmosphere reaches its suffocating limit, and can no longer yield any more energy, the shot breaks from the cannon and surges towards the brunette. Xemnas instantly teleports to where Xaldin is and with a reprimanding lash of his hand, generates a crackling ruby wall of a shield. The wall and attack shatter into a flurry of red and white edgeless glass.

Xemnas frowns severely at Xigbar. The sniper tartly presses his lips together with anger but says nothing discernable. Xaldin gives a scoff of tiny personal victory at Xigbar's disdain. Their leader whirls on him and leers at the book that he has clasped in his hands. Much to Xaldin's astonishment, Xemnas snatches it out of his taunting grip.

The tanned man checks the papers within the little black book to discover that they are actually photographs. He flips through them and his eyes fall upon a most peculiar picture. His face draws from its previous scrutiny to disbelief and back to the critical creases on his face. He removes the picture from the book as though it is an overly ripe piece of trash.

Xemnas knows about the rivalry and immature game of extortion tag Xaldin and Xigbar play with each other. And despite his best intentions to avoid being dragged into these bouts, it happens anyway. However, this time the unwilling arbitrator is made quite curious about this specific tool of blackmail Xaldin had managed to unearth.

"Xigbar, would you kindly explain to me what this is?"

He flips the photo over so that the white backing faces him and the image front beams at Xigbar. From the lighting he can still see the faint image of what appears to be a more youthful Braig dressed horrifyingly in gaudy hula-drag while leaning heavily on an extremely confused Elaeus as if he were a human crutch.

Xigbar stutters, stumbles and crashes over his words, "I-I-It isn't what it looks like!"

Xemans stows the photograph back into the leaves of the book and tucks it under his protective arm.

"That's lovely Xigbar, but according to an old saying you still owe me nine-hundred and ninety-six more words for it to be worth returning this picture back to you."  
---------------------------------------

_Oh wow, an extremely long theme chain with no slash and no unlucky Demyx. I think I just broke something... Also the brief wine reference is utter BS, I'm no expert in wine vintage, so if anyone knows a better or more accurate example, please tell me! I really cheated on using Lexaeus this theme set, poor man needs to be written more._


End file.
